"^ 


ilTY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


THE  GIFT  OF 

MAY  TREAT  MORRISON 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

ALEXANDER   F  MORRISON 

1. 


HISTORICAL  STUDIES. 


BY 


EUGENE    LAWRENCE. 


-  •  '.• 


•  •  • 
•••  • 


NEW    YORK: 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 

1876. 


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•  •  • 

•  •  • 

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Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  187G,  by 

Harper    &    R  r  o  t  h  t:  r  s, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  "Washington. 


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PREFACE. 


The  following  historical  papers  liave  appeared  at  intervals 
in  Harper's  New  Montlily  Magazine.  I  trust,  notwithstand- 
ing their  imperfections,  that  they  may  furnish  a  useful  outline 
of  the  slow  advance  of  knowledge  and  the  decay  of  ecclesias- 
tical tyranny.  The  chief  aim  of  the  Roman  Church  has  been 
the  destruction  of  the  intellect.     The  chief  result  of  the  over- 


(V 

g  throw  of  persecution  has  been  the  rapid  growth  of  the  poj)u- 
lar  mind.     It  is  well,  therefore,  to  review  these  remarkable 

2  mental  struggles  by  the  liglit  of  republican  progress.     Our 
O 

3  benefactors  in  the  past  have  been,  not  kings,  poj)es,  or  jDrinces, 

§  but  those  memorable  men  who  have  lived  and  died  for  religion 
and  knowledge.     To  them  it  has  at  last  become  customary 

^  to  trace  the  most  valuable  results  of  modern  progress.     Edu- 

g  cation,  intelligence,  virtue,  religion,  have  flourished  in  spite  of 

y^  the  intolerance  of  popes  and  kings;  and  the  New  World,  in 

t.  the  centennial  year  of  freedom,  turns  gratefully  to  the  heroes 

9  who  died,  that  men  might  be  free. 


433740 


CONTENTS. 


The  Bishops  of  Rome Page  9 

Hebrew  missionaries,  11 ;  age  of  martyrdom,  13 ;  iu  the  Catacombs, 
15 ;  a  defaulting  bishop,  17 ;  an  Arian  Pope,  19 ;  a  haughty  priest- 
hood, 21 ;  Pope  Silverius,  23 ;  Gregory's  visions,  25 ;  Gregory's  mental 
influence,  27;  the  worship  of  relics,  29;  the  Popes  defend  image-wor- 
ship, 31 ;  Hildebrand,  33 ;  Gregory  VII.,  35 ;  the  emperor  at  Canossa, 
37;  Gregory  delivered  by  the  Normans,  39;  death  of  Gregory  VII.,  41; 
Innocent  III.  and  Philip  Augustus,  43 ;  Philip  subdued,  45 ;  the  Albi- 
genses,  47 ;  death  of  the  troubadours,  49 ;  mendicant  orders,  51 ;  the 
Borgias,  53 ;  the  modern  Popes,  55. 

Leo  and  Luther 56 

A  conclave,  57 ;  the  papal  electors,  59 ;  Giovanni  de'  Medici,  61 ;  Lu- 
ther's childhood,  63 ;  Luther  a  monk,  65 ;  Leo  in  misfortune,  67 ;  Leo 
X.  as  Pope,  69 ;  the  Golden  Age  of  Leo,  71 ;  the  Pope  iu  danger,  73 ; 
the  cardinal  would  poison  Leo,  75 ;  Leo's  extravagance,  77 ;  indul- 
gences, 79 ;  an  El  Dorado,  81 ;  Luther's  danger,  83 ;  Germany  unquiet, 
85;  intellectual  tourneys,  87;  Luther  and  Eck,  89;  Luther  summoned 
to  Worms,  91 ;  Luther's  hymn,  93 ;  the  Diet  of  Worms,  95 ;  Luther  con- 
demned, 97. 

Loyola  and  the  Jesuits 99 

Loyola's  wounds,  101 ;  Loyola  a  beggar,  103 ;  the  strength  of  Jesuit- 
ism, 105;  Luther  and  Loyola,  107;  Loyola's  disciples,  109;  Paul  III., 
Ill ;  the  Koman  Inquisition,  113 ;  the  papal  massacres,  115 ;  the 
"Spiritual  Exercises,"  117;  the  Council  of  Trent,  119;  the  Jesuits  at 
Trent,  121 ;  great  wealth  of  the  Jesuits,  123 ;  Xavier  iu  the  East,  125 ; 
Jesuit  literature,  127 ;  Jesuit  assassins,  129 ;  William  of  Orange,  131 ; 
Jesuit  executions,  133 ;  Father  Garnet,  135 ;  fall  of  Jesuitism,  137;  the 
Jesuits  driven  from  Spain,  139 ;  the  order  dissolved,  141 ;  Loyola's 
death, 143. 


6  CONTENTS. 

Ecumenical  Councils Paore  144 

The  assembling  at  Nice,  145;  the  town -hall  at  Nice,  147;  Constan- 
tiue's  crime,  149 ;  various  heresies,  151 ;  union  of  the  Church,  153 ;  the 
Second  Council,  155;  Gregory  Nazianzcn,  157;  a  council  vituperated, 
159 ;  Poj)e  Damasus,  161 ;  Cyril  and  llypatia,  163 ;  the  fallen  Church, 
165;  Dioscorus  and  his  robbers,  167;  Pope  Honorius  the  Heretic,  169; 
the  monastic  rule,  171 ;  monkish  rule,  173 ;  Council  of  Constance,  175 ; 
deposition  of  a  Pope,  177;  John  Huss,  179;  Huss  at  Constance,  181; 
execution  of  Huss,  183;  reformation,  185;  Council  of  Trent,  187;  the 
Jesuits  at  Trent,  189;  Lainez  at  Trent,  191;  the  Council  closes,  193; 
the  decrees  of  Trent,  195 ;  the  First  Council,  197. 

The  Vaudois 198 

San  Martino,  199 ;  the  barbes,  201 ;  the  Popes  and  the  Vaudois,  203 ; 
the  Alpine  Church,  205 ;  the  Jesuits  in  the  valleys,  207;  papal  perse- 
cutors, 209;  the  Vaudois  doomed,  211;  the  Battle  of  Pra  del  Tor, 
213;  Vaudois  patience,  215;  the  "Noble  Lesson,"  217;  omens  of  dan- 
ger, 219 ;  the  flight  of  the  Vaudois,  221 ;  Milton  would  save  the  Vau- 
dois, 223 ;  the  cave  of  Castelluzo,  225 ;  mass  celebrated  in  the  valleys, 
227;  Janavel,  229;  "The  Glorious  Return,"  231;  the  Balsille,  233; 
winter  on  the  Balsille,  235;  the  Vaudois  fly,  237;  a  Glorious  Eeturn, 
239;  new  persecutions,  241 ;  Turin  does  honor  to  the  Vaudois,  243 ; 
the  moderator  triumphs  over  the  Pope,  245. 

The  Huguenots 24Y 

Eminent  Huguenots,  249 ;  Palissy  the  Potter,  251 ;  reformers  outlaw- 
ed, 253 ;  the  Bible,  255 ;  Bibles  burned,  257 ;  the  printers  and  the 
Popes,  259 ;  Philippa  de  Lunz,  261 ;  Catherine  de'  Medici,  263 ;  Cathe- 
rine's superstition,  265;  Jeanne  d'Albret,  267 ;  the  Huguenots  rise,  269; 
death  of  Jeanne  d'Albret,  271 ;  Marguerite's  wedding,  273 ;  Charles  IX. 
irresolute,  275 ;  the  Louvre,  277 ;  the  massacre  commemorated,  279 ; 
the  Edict  of  Nantes,  281 ;  inhuman  orators,  283 ;  priests  persecute  in- 
dustry, 285;  generous  Geneva,  287;  the  Seigneur  Bostaquet,  289 ;  the 
galley-slaves,  291 ;  the  "Church  in  the  Desert,"  293;  Jean  Calas,295; 
the  Revolution,  297;  Pius  IX.  and  the  Huguenots,  299. 

The  Church  of  Jerusalem 300 

Ancient  capitals,  301 ;  the  Holy  City,  303 ;  scenes  around  Jerusalem, 
305;  the  Castle  of  Antonia,  307;  the  home  of  Mary,  309;  St.  Peter, 
311 ;  St.  John,  313  ;  Jewish  festivals,  315  ;  Roman  paganism,  317 ; 
apostolic  charities,  319 ;  the  martyrs,  321 ;  dispersion  of  the  Church, 
323;  Paul  at  Damascus,  325;  Paul  the  Persecutor,  327;  death  of 
James,  329;  the  First  Council,  331 ;  Ephesus,  333;  Athens,  335;  Paul 
at  Jerusalem,  337;  Csesarea,  339 ;  Paul  in  the  storm,  341 ;  was  St.  Peter 


CONTENTS.  _  7 

at  Rome  ?  343 ;  martyrdom  of  James  the  Just,  345 ;  Galilee  ravaged, 
347;  tlie  Last  Passover,  349;  the  Holy  of  Holies,  351;  Titus  the  De- 
stroyer, 353;  Simeon  rules  the  Church,  355;  the  Pastor  of  Hermas,  357. 

Dominic  and  the  Inquisition Page  358 

The  Inquisition,  359 ;  heresy  in  France,  361 ;  the  Albigenses,  363 ;  Alhi 
desolated,  365 ;  the  Spanish  Inquisition,  367 ;  the  Jews  persecuted, 
369;  Torquemada,  371;  fate  of  the  Spanish  Jews,  373;  the  Moors  in 
Spain,  375;  the  Holy  Houses,  377;  Savonarola,  379;  death  of  Savo- 
narola, 381 ;  an  auto-da-fe,  383 ;  the  procession  of  Inquisitors,  385 ;  Italy 
Protestant,  387 ;  Italy  subdued,  389 ;  Galileo,  391;  Galileo's  crime,  393 ; 
the  first  aeronaut,  395  ;  Italy  and  Spain  decay,  397;  England  under  an 
Inquisition,  399 ;  condition  of  Spain,  401 ;  the  Roman  Inquisitors,  403 ; 
Pius  IX.  revives  the  Inquisition,  405;  sorrows  and  deliverance  of 
Rome,  407. 

The  Conquest  of  Ireland 409 

Irish  scenery,  411 ;  Patrick  in  Ireland,  413;  Irish  scholars,  415 ;  the 
Irish  Church,  417 ;  the  Pope  sells  Ireland  to  its  enemies,  419 ;  Dermot 
in  England,  421 ;  Irish  valor,  423 ;  Roderic  O'Connor,  425 ;  Dublin 
taken,  427;  the  Normans  in  Dublin,  429;  the  Irish  unite,  431;  Henry 
II.,  433;  Ireland  subjected  to  Rome,  435;  Henry  II.  in  Ireland,  437; 
the  Pope's  bull,  439 ;  the  death  of  Roderic,  441 ;  Roman  jiriests  kill 
the  Irish,  443;  the  Irish  victorious,  445;  the  Jesuits  in  Ireland,  447; 
massacre  of  Ulster,  449 ;  the  Irish  emigrants,  451 ;  the  University  of 
Armagh,  453. 

The  Greek  Church 455 

The  Seven  Churches,  457 ;  Constantinople,  459 ;  the  dome  of  St. 
Sophia,  461;  St.  Sophia,  463;  the  Oriental  shrine,  465;  the  Arabs  and 
the  Greek  Church,  467 ;  the  Popes  and  the  Eastern  Church,  469 ; 
Photius  and  his  age,  471 ;  decay  of  the  patriarchates,  473 ;  Russian 
ascetics,  475 ;  Rurik,  477;  Vladimir  converted,  479 ;  Ivan  the  Terrible, 
481 ;  the  Kremlin,  483 ;  Boris  Godunoff,  485 ;  the  false  Demetrius,  487; 
Marina,  489;  the  Romanoiis,  491;  Nikon,  493;  Nikon's  fall,  495;  Peter 
the  Great,  497;  Solovetsky,  499. 


INDEX 501 


>,°  j^"  .  ->  >  J  '  '        '     '    ' 

HISTORICAL   STUDIES. 


TRE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME.i^) 

In  her  faded  magnificence,  Rome  still  possesses  the  most 
imposing  of  earthly  empires.  She  rules  over  nearly  two  hun- 
dred millions  of  the  human  race.  Her  well-ordered  army  of 
priests,  both  regular  and  secular,  arrayed  almost  with  the  pre- 
cision of  a  Eoman  legion,  and  governed  by  a  single  will,  car- 
ry the  standard  of  St.  Peter  to  the  farthest  bounds  of  civil- 
ization, and  cover  the  whole  earth  with  a  chain  of  influences 
radiating  from  the  central  city.  The  Pope  is  still  powerful 
in  Europe  and  America,  Africa  and  the  East.  He  disturbs 
the  policy  of  England,  and  sometimes  governs  that  of  France ; 
his  influence  is  felt  in  the  revolutions  of  Mexico  and  the  elec- 
tions of  New  York.(')  Hemmed  in  by  the  Greek  Church  on 
the  eastward,  engaged  in  a  constant  struggle  with  the  Protest- 
antism of  the  North,  and  trembling  for  his  ancestral  domin- 
ions in  the  heart  of  Italy  itself,  the  Supreme  Pontiff  still  gal- 
lantly summons  around  him  his  countless  priestly  legions, 
^nd  thunders  from  the  Vatican  the  sentiments  of  the  Middle 
Ages. 

As  if  to  maintain  before  the  eyes  of  mankind  a  semblance 
of  supernatural  splendor,  the  Popes  have  invented  and  per- 
fected at  Rome   a  ritual  more   magnificent  than  was   ever 


(■)  Gieseler,  Ecclesiastical  History;  Milman,  Latin  Christianity. 

O  Since  this  was  written  (1869)  the  papal  power  has  fallen.  But  the 
Pope  is  still  the  most  active  and  dangerous  of  politicians  in  every  civil- 
ized land. 


10  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

known  before.  In  the  Basilica  of  St.  Peter,  the  largest  and 
most  costly,  .building  ever.ei:ected  by  man,  the  annual  pomp 
of  the  Roiiiish  ccye/iiQDiefe  lesceeds  the  powers  of  description. 
The  gf';rgeous.i>ol>Qs.the  plajutiye  music,  the  assembled  throng 
of  princes','  erfi'dhral'^  lautl'jiripsts,  the  various  rites  designed 
to  paint  in  living  colors  the  touching  memorials  of  the  Sav- 
iour's life  and  death,  delight  or  impress  the  inquisitive  and 
the  devout.  And  when  at  length  the  Holy  Father,  parent  of 
all  the  faithful,  appears  upon  the  balcony  of  St.  Peter's  and 
bestows  his  blessing  upon  mankind,  few  turn  away  unaffected 
by  the  splendid  spectacle,  untouched  by  the  pecidiar  fascina- 
tion of  the  magniticent  Church  of  Rome. 

Very  different,  however,  in  character  and  appearance  was 
that  early  church  which  the  Popes  claim  to .  represent.  The 
Jewish  Christians  entered  pagan  Rome  probably  about  the 
middle  of  the  first  century.  That  city  was  then  the  capital 
of  the  Roman  Empire  and  of  the  world.  Its  population  was 
more  than  a  million ;  its  temples,  baths,  and  public  buildings 
were  still  complete  in  their  magnificence ;  its  streets  were  fill- 
ed with  a  splendid  throng  of  senators,  priests,  and  nobles ;  its 
palaces  were  scenes  of  unexampled  luxury ;  and  literature  and 
the  fine  arts  still  flourished,  although  with  diminished  lustre. 
But  the  moral  condition  of  Rome  durincr  the  reigns  of  Claudi- 
us  and  Nero  shocked  even  the  unrefined  consciences  of  Juve- 
nal and  Persius.  A  cold,  dull  materialism  pervaded  all  ranks 
of  the  peojjle ;  the  intellect  was  enchaiTied  by  spells  more 
gross  and  foul  than  the  enchantments  of  Comus ;  crime  kept 
pace  with  luxury,  and  the  palaces  of  emperors  and  senators 
were  stained  with  horrible  deeds  that  terriiied  even  the  hard- 
ened sentiment  of  Rome.(')  At  length  Nero  became  a  ra- 
ging madman.  He  murdered  his  mother,  his  friends,  and 
his  kinsmen.  Seneca  and  Lucan,  the  literary  glories  of  the 
age,  died  at  his  command.  To  forget  his  fearful  deeds,  Nero 
plunged  into  wild  excesses.  He  roamed  like  a  bacchanal 
through  the   streets   of   the  city ;   he   sung  upon  the   stage 

(')  Tiicitns,  Jnvcnal,  and  Persius  indicate  the  condition  of  Rome.  Meri- 
vale  and  Gibbon  may  be  consulted. 


HEBREW  MISSIONARIES.  11 

amidst  the  applauding  throng  of  mimics  and  actors,  and  his 
horrible  revelry  was  mingled  with  a  cruelty  that  almost  sur- 
passes belief. 

The  people  of  Rome  were  little  less  corrupt  than  their  em- 
peror. Honor,  integrity,  and  moral  purity  wxre  mocked  at 
and  contemned  by  the  degraded  descendants  of  Cicero  and 
Cato,  and  the  keen  satire  of  Juvenal  has  thrown  a  shameful 
immortality  upon  the  vicious  and  criminal  of  his  contempora- 
ries. Gain  was  the  only  aim  of  the  Komans.  The  husband 
sold  his  honor,  the  parent  his  child,  friend  betrayed  friend, 
wives  denounced  their  husbands,  to  win  the  means  of  a  lux- 
urious subsistence.  The  amusements  of  the  people,  too,  were 
well  fitted  to  instruct  them  in  degradation  and  crime. 
Thousands  of  wretched  gladiators  died  in  the  arena  to  sat- 
isfy the  Roman  thirst  for  blood;  gross  and  frivolous  panto- 
mimes had  supplanted  on  the  stage  the  tragedies  of  Accius 
and  the  comedies  of  Terence ;  the  witty  but  indecorous  epi- 
grams of  Martial  were  beginning  to  excite  the  interest  of  the 
cultivated ;  and  even  the  philosophic  Seneca,  plunged  in  the 
luxury  of  his  palaces  and  villas,  wrote  in  vain  his  defense  of 
the  matricide  of  Nero. 

It  was  into  such  a  city  that  the  early  missionaries  from  Je- 
rusalem made  their  way,  about  the  middle  of  the  first  century, 
bearing  to  unhappy  Rome  the  earliest  tidings  of  the  gospel 
of  peace.  Amidst  the  splendid  throng  of  consulars,  knights, 
and  nobles,  they  wandered  obscure  and  unknown  strangers. 
The  first  bishop  of  Rome,  clothed  in  coarse  and  foreign  garb, 
and  mingling  with  the  lowest  classes  of  the  people,  was 
scarcely  noticed  by  the  frivolous  courtiers  of  Nero,  or  that 
literary  opposition  which  was  inspired  by  the  vigorous  hon- 
esty of  the  satirists  and  poets.  Yet  Christianity  seems  to  have 
made  swift  though  silent  progress.  Within  thirty  years  from 
the  death  of  its  author  a  church  had  already  been  gathered  at 
Rome,  and  the  simple  worship  of  the  early  Christians  was  cel- 
ebrated under  the  shadow  of  the  Capitol.  Their  meetings 
were  held  in  rooms  and  private  houses  in  obscure  portions  of 
the  city ;  the  exhortations  of  the  apostles  were  heard  with 
eager  interest  by  the  lower  orders  of  the  Romans ;   a  new 


12  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

hope  dawned  upon  the  oppressed  and  the  obscure,  and  it  is 
said  that  a  large  number  of  the  earlier  converts  were  slaves. 
Little  is  known  of  the  condition  of  the  Chiu'ch  at  this  period ; 
yet  we  may  properly  infer  that  its  congregations  were  numer- 
ous, and  that  the  voice  of  praise  and  prayer  was  heard  issuing 
from  many  an  humble  dwelling  of  the  crowded  and  dissolute 
city.  Amidst  the  shouts  and  groans  of  the  blood-stained 
arena,  and  the  wild  revels  of  the  streets  and  the  palaces,  the 
Jewish  teachers  inculcated  to  eager  assemblies  lessons  of  gen- 
tleness and  love. 

Suddenly,  however,  a  terrible  light  is  thrown  upon  the  con- 
dition of  the  early  Church  of  Rome.  Nero  began  his  famous 
persecution,  and  the  severe  pen  of  the  historian  Tacitus  bears 
witness  to  the  wide  and  rapid  growth  of  the  obscure  faith. 
"  The  founder  of  the  sect,  Christ,"  says  the  pagan  writer,  "  was 
executed  in  the  reign  of  Tiberius  by  the  procurator,  Pontius 
Pilate.  The  pernicious  superstition,  repressed  for  a  time,  burst 
forth  again ;  not  only  through  Judea,  the  birthj)lace  of  the 
evil,  but  at  Rome  also,  where  every  thing  atrocious  and  base 
centres  and  is  in  repute."  Rome  had  lately  been  desolated 
by  a  great  fire,  which  Nero  was  believed  to  have  ordered  to 
be  kindled  in  one  of  his  moments  of  insane  merriment ;  and, 
to  remove  suspicion  from  himself,  the  emperor  charged  the 
Christians  with  an  attempt  to  burn  the  city.  Those  first  ar- 
rested, says  Tacitus,  confessed  their  guilt ;  vast  numbers  were 
put  to  death ;  some  were  clad  in  the  skins  of  wild  beasts  and 
were  torn  to  pieces  by  dogs ;  others  were  affixed  to  crosses, 
and,  being  covered  with  some  inflammable  material,  were  burn- 
ed at  night,  in  the  place  of  torches,  to  dispel  the  darkness. 
Nero  lent  his  gardens  for  the  hideous  spectacle,  the  populace 
of  Rome  crowded  to  the  novel  entertainment,  and  the  em- 
peror, driving  his  own  chariot,  rode  amidst  the  throng,  clad 
in  the  garb  of  a  charioteer.  In  the  last  year  of  the  reign  of 
this  monster,  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  a  doubtful  tradition  re- 
lates, suffered  martyrdom  at  Rome,  and  were  buried  in  the 
spots  now  marked  by  the  two  noble  Basilicas  that  bear  their 
names. 

From  this  period  (67)  the  new  and  powerful  sect  became  a 


AGE  OF  MARTYRDOM.  13 

constant  object  of  imperial  persecution.  The  Christians  were 
denounced  as  the  common  enemies  of  mankind.  The  grossest 
crimes,  the  foulest  superstitions,  were  charged  against  them. 
The  learned  Komans  looked  upon  them  with  contempt  as  a 
vulgar  throng  of  deluded  enthusiasts.  Pliny  speaks  of  them 
with  gentle  scorn ;  the  wise  Trajan  and  the  philosophic  Aure- 
lius  united  in  persecuting  them ;  and  Decius  and  Diocletian 
sought  to  extirpate  every  vestige  of  the  hated  creed.  Six 
great  persecutions  are  noticed  by  the  historians,  from  that  of 
Nero  to  that  of  Maximin  and  Diocletian,  during  whicli  the 
whole  civilized  world  everywhere  witnessed  the  constancy  and 
resignation  of  the  Christian  martyrs. 

It  was  the  age  of  martyrdom.  An  infinite  number  of  nov- 
el tortures  were  devised  by  the  infuriated  pagans  to  rack  the 
bodies  of  their  unresisting  victims.  Some  were  affixed  to 
crosses  and  left  to  starve ;  some  were  suspended  by  the  feet, 
and  hung  with  their  heads  downward  until  they  died ;  some 
were  crushed  beneath  heavy  weights ;  some  beaten  to  death 
with  iron  rods ;  some  were  cast  into  caldrons  of  blazing  oil ; 
some  were  thrown,  bound,  into  dungeons  to  be  eaten  by  mice ; 
some  were  pierced  with  sharp  knives ;  and  thousands  died  in 
the  arena,  contending  with  wild  beasts,  to  amuse  the  populace 
of  Rome.C)  The  mildest  punishment  awarded  to  the  Chris- 
tians was  to  labor  in  the  sand-pits,  or  to  dig  in  the  distant 
mines  of  Sardinia  and  Spain.  Men,  women,  and  children,  the 
noble  convert  or  the  faithful  slave,  suffered  a  common  doom, 
and  were  exposed  to  tortures  scarcely  equaled  by  the  poetic 
horrors  of  Dante's  terrible  Inferno.  Yet  the  honors  paid  to 
these  early  martyrs  in  a  later  age  were  almost  as  extravagant 
as  their  sufferings  had  been  severe.  The  city  which  had  been 
consecrated  by  their  tortures  deemed  itself  hallowed  by  their 
doom.  The  sepulchre  of  eighteen  martyrs,  sung  Prudentius, 
has  made  holy  the  fair  city  of  Saragossa.     Splendid  churches 

(')  Prudeutins,  Migne,  Ix.,  p.  450-'54,  sings  the  sufferings  of  the  martyrs. 
See  Peristeph.,  hymn  x.,  p.  1069.     Conspirat  nno  foederatus  spiritn. 

Grex  Christianus,  agmen  impcrterritum 
Matrum,  virorum,  parvulorum,  virginum ; 
Fixa  et  statuta  est  omnibus  sententia,  etc. 


14  THE  BISHOPS  OF  SOME. 

were  built  over  the  graves  of  obscure  victims ;  the  bones  of 
the  martyrs  were  looked  upon  as  the  most  precious  relics; 
they  were  enchased  in  gold  and  covered  with  jewels ;  they 
wrought  miracles,  healed  the  sick,  and  brought  prosperity  and 
good  fortune ;  and  the  humblest  Christian  who  had  been  rack- 
ed with  sharp  knives  or  hung  with  his  head  downward,  in  the 
days  of  pagan  persecution,  was  now  deified,  worshiped,  and  al- 
most adored. 

It  was  during  the  reign  of  the  early  persecution  that  the 
bishops  and  the  Church  of  Rome  sought,  and  perhaps  found, 
a  refuge  in  that  singular  hiding-place — the  Catacombs.(')  Be- 
neath the  Campagna,  immediately  around  the  city,  the  earth 
is  penetrated  by  a  great  number  of  galleries  or  tunnels,  run- 
ning for  many  miles  under  the  surface,  and  difficult  of  access 
even  to  those  most  familiar  with  them.  These  narrow  pas- 
sages are  now  known  as  the  Catacombs,  and  are  usually  f om* 
or  six  feet  wide,  and  ten  feet  high.  They  were  formed  by 
the  Romans  in  getting  out  sand  for  cement ;  and  as  many  of 
the  Christians  were  laborers  or  slaves,  they  were  probably 
well  acquainted  with  the  opportunity  for  concealment  offer- 
ed by  these  arenarke,  or  sand-pits,  where  they  had  often  la- 
bored at  their  humble  toil.  When  persecution  grew  fierce, 
and  the  life  of  every  Christian  was  in  danger,  the  Church  of 
Rome  hid  itself  in  the  Catacombs.  Here,  in  these  dismal 
passages,  may  still  be  seen  a  thousand  traces  of  the  suffer- 
ings and  sorrows  of  the  early  Christians.  Here  are  small 
chapels  cut  in  the  sides  of  the  wall  of  sand,  and  provided 
with  altars,  fonts,  and  episcopal  chairs,  while  above  the  chap- 
el a  narrow  opening  is  often  excavated  to  the  surface  of  the 
earth  in  order  to  admit  a  little  light  or  air  to  the  hidden  con- 
gregation below.  Other  portions  of  the  Catacombs  were  used 
as  cemeteries  for  the  burial  of  the  Christian  dead.  Count- 
less tombs  are  seen  rudely  excavated  in  the  earth,  and  usual- 


(')  For  the  Catacombs  consult  Church  of  the  Catacombs,  Maitland,  who 
thinks  (p.  17)  they  were  originally  sand-pits;  and  De  Rossi.  The  are- 
narli,  or  sand-diggers,  were  i)robubly  slaves  who  eagerly  embraced  Chris- 
tianity. 


IN  THE  CATACOMBS.  15 

ly  distinguished  by  an  inscription  indicating  the  position  and 
character  of  the  deceased.  These  inscriptions,  indeed,  form 
one  of  the  most  interesting  traits  of  the  Catacombs,  and  have 
been  eagerly  studied  and  copied  by  many  ardent  exj)lorers. 
They  bring  into  clear  light  the  simplicity  and  fervor  of  the 
ancient  faith.  Here  are  no  prayers  for  the  dead,  no  address 
to  the  Yirgin  or  the  saints.  Upon  one  tomb  is  written,  "  He 
sleeps  in  Christ ;"  over  another,  "  May  she  live  in  the  Lord 
Jesus !"  Most  of  the  inscriptions  dwell  upon  the  hope  of  a 
better  life,  and  are  full  of  resignation  and  faith.  One,  how- 
ever, shows  in  what  gloom  and  terror  the  Church  maintain- 
ed its  existence.  "O,  mournful  time,"  it  reads,  "in  whieli 
prayer  and  sacred  rites,  even  in  caverns,  afford  no  protec- 
tion !"(') 

The  bishops  of  Rome,  with  their  terrified  followers,  were 
now  the  tenants  of  a  subterranean  home.  They  lived  among 
tombs,  in  darkness  and  confinement,  fed  upon  the  scanty  food 
brought  them  by  stealth  by  faithful  slaves  or  devoted  women. 
Yet,  if  we  may  believe  the  common  tradition,  but  few  of  the 
early  bishops  escaped  martyrdom.  They  were  pursued  into 
the  Catacombs,  and  were  often  murdered  in  the  midst  of 
their  congregations.  Stephen  L,  Bishop  of  Rome,  lived  many 
years,  it  is  said,  in  these  dismal  retreats.  Food  was  furnish- 
ed him  from  above,  and  wells  and  springs  are  found  in  the 
Catacombs.  At  length,  however,  the  pagan  soldiers  traced 
him  to  his  chapel,  while  he  was  performing  service,  and,  when 
he  had  done,  threw  him  back  in  his  episcopal  chair,  and  cut 
off  his  head  at  a  blow.  The  pagan  emperors  in  vain  issued 
decrees  forbidding  the  Christians  to  take  refuge  in  the  Cat- 
acombs ;  and  although  death  was  decreed  to  every  one  who 
was  found  there,  these  endless  labyrinths  were  always  thickly 
peopled.  Ladies  of  rank  hid  in  the  sand-pits,  and  were  fed 
by  their  faithful  maids ;  the  rich  and  the  poor  found  a  com- 
mon safety  in  the  recesses  of  the  earth.  When  the  heathen 
soldiers  approached,  the  Christians  would  sometimes  block  up 

(')  Maitlaud,  p.  53:  "No  worship  of  the  Virgin  is  found,  nor  image-wor- 
ship." 


16  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

the  passages  with  sand,  and  then  escape  to  some  distant  part 
of  the  labyrinths  where  the  persecutors  did  not  venture  to 
follow  them. 

Long  afterward,  when  all  necessity  for  using  them  had  for- 
ever passed  away,  the  Catacombs  were  still  looked  upon  with 
singular  veneration  by  the  Roman  Christians  as  the  scene  of 
many  a  martyrdom,  and  the  home  of  the  persecuted  Church. 
Here  they  would  often  assemble  to  celebrate  their  holiest 
rites,  surrounded  by  the  tombs  of  bishops  and  presbyters, 
and  shut  out  from  the  world  in  the  gloom  of  a  subterranean 
darkness.  St.  Jerome  relates  that  it  was  his  custom,  when  a 
young  student  at  Rome,  to  wander  on  Sundays  to  the  Cata- 
combs, accompanied  by  his  pious  friends,  descend  into  a  deep 
cavern  amidst  the  cultivated  fields  near  the  city,  and  enter  by 
a  path  of  winding  steps  the  hallowed  abode  of  the  martyrs. 
His  pious  pilgrimage  represents,  no  doubt,  the  common  prac- 
tice of  the  Christians  of  his  time.  But  as  centuries  passed 
away,  the  ancient  usage  was  neglected,  until  at  length  even 
the  very  existence  of  the  Catacombs  was  forgotten.  It  was 
only  remembered  that  in  the  early  ages  the  Christians  had 
hidden  in  their  cemeteries,  and  that  the  living  had  once  been 
forced  to  seek  shelter  among  the  dead.  In  the  year  1578 
Rome  was  startled  by  the  intelligence  that  an  ancient  Chris- 
tian cemetery  had  been  discovered,  extending  like  a  subter- 
ranean city  around  and  beneath  the  Salarian  Way.  The  Ro- 
man antiquarians  and  artists  crowded  to  the  spot,  explored 
with  earnest  devotion  the  crumbling  labyrinth,  copied  the 
numerous  inscriptions,  traced  the  moldering  sculptures  or  the 
faded  pictures  on  the  walls,  and  revived  the  memory  of  the 
forgotten  Church  of  the  Catacombs. 

During  this  period  of  persecution  and  contempt  the  bish- 
ops of  Rome  gave  little  promise  of  that  spiritual  and  tempo- 
ral grandeur  to  which  tliey  afterward  attained.  They  are 
nearly  lost  to  history ;  a  barren  list  of  names  is  almost  all 
that  we  possess.  Yet  the  discovery  of  the  writings  of  Hyp- 
polytus  has  lately  thrown  some  new  light  upon  the  characters 
of  several  of  the  early  bishops,  and  serves  to  show  that  the 
rulers  of  the  Church  were  not  always  selected  with  discre- 


A  DEFAULTIXG  BISHOP.  17 

tion.(')  Bishop  Victor  was  stern,  haughty,  and  overbearing; 
his  successor,  Zephyrinns,  feeble,  ignorant,  avaricious,  and  ve- 
nal. But  tlie  next  bishop,  who  ruled  from  219  to  223,  was 
even  less  reputable  than  his  predecessors.  Callistus,  in  early 
life,  had  been  a  slave  in  the  family  of  Carpophorus,  a  wealthy 
Christian  who  was  employed  in  the  emperor's  household. 
His  master  established  Callistus  as  a  banker  in  a  business 
quarter  of  the  city,  and  his  bank  was  soon  tilled  with  the 
savings  of  prudent  Christians  and  the  property  of  widows 
and  oi-phans.  Callistus  made  away  with  the  funds  intrust- 
ed to  his  care,  and,  being  called  to  account,  fled  from  Eome. 
He  was  seized,  brought  back  to  the  city,  and  condemned  to 
hard  labor  in  the  public  work-house.  His  master,  however, 
obtained  his  release,  forgave  his  offense,  and  employed  him 
in  collecting  moneys  which  Callistus  pretended  were  due  him. 
Soon  after,  the  defaulting  banker  was  arrested  for  some  new 
offense,  and  was  condemned  to  be  scourged  and  transported  to 
the  mines  of  Sardinia.  He  was  again  relieved  from  his  sen- 
tence through  the  influence  of  powerful  friends,  returned  to 
Rome,  and  became  the  favorite  and  counselor  of  the  feeble 
Bishop  Zephyrinus.  Wlien  the  latter  died,  Callistus  succeed- 
ed him  in  the  episcopal  chair;  and  thus  a  public  defaulter, 
snatched  from  the  work-house  and  the  mines,  became  the  head 
of  the  Roman  Church. 

In  the  last  great  persecution  under  Diocletian,  the  bishops 
of  Rome  probably  fled  once  more  to  the  Catacombs.  Their 
churches  were  torn  down,  their  property  couflscated,  their  sa- 
cred writings  destroyed,  and  a  vigorous  effort  was  made  to  ex- 
tirpate the  powerful  sect.  But  the  effort  Avas  vain.  Constan- 
tine  soon  afterward  became  emperor,  and  the  Bishop  of  Rome 
emerged  from  the  Catacombs  to  become  one  of  the  ruling 
powers  of  the  world.  This  sudden  change  was  followed  by 
an  almost  total  loss  of  the  simplicity  and  purity  of  the  days 
of  persecution.  Magnificent  churches  were  erected  by  the 
emperor  in  Rome,  adorned  with  images  and  pictures,  where 
the  bishop  sat  on  a  lofty  throne,  encircled  by  inferior  priests, 


(')  Bunsen,  Hippolytus. 

2 


18  THE  BISHOPS  OF  HOME. 

and  perfoiining  rights  borrowed  from  tlie  splendid  ceremo- 
nial of  the  pagan  temple.  The  Bishop  of  Rome  became  a 
prince  of  the  empire,  and  lived  in  a  style  of  luxury  and  pomp 
that  awakened  the  envy  or  the  just  indignation  of  the  hea- 
then writer,  Marcellinus.  The  Church  was  now  enriched  .by 
the  gifts  and  bequests  of  the  pious  and  the  timid ;  the  bish- 
op drew  great  revenues  from  his  farms  in  the  Campagna  and 
his  rich  plantations  in  Sicily ;  he  rode  through  the  streets  of 
Eome  in  a  stately  chariot  and  clothed  in  gorgeous  attire ;  his 
table  was  supplied  with  a  profusion  more  than  imperial ;  the 
proudest  women  of  Rome  loaded  him  with  lavish  donations, 
and  followed  him  with  their  flatteries  and  attentions ;  and  his 
haughty  bearing  and  profuse  luxury  were  remarked  upon  by 
both  pagans  and  Christians  as  strangely  inconsistent  with  the 
humility  and  simplicity  enjoined  by  the  faith  which  he  pro- 
fessed. 

The  bishopric  of  Rome  now  became  a  splendid  prize,  for 
which  the  ambitious  and  unprincipled  contended  by  force  or 
fraud.  The  bishop  was  elected  by  the  clergy  and  the  popu^ 
lace  of  the  city,  and  this  was  the  only  elective  oflflce  at  Rome. 
Long  deprived  of  all  the  rights  of  freemen,  and  obliged  to 
accept  the  senators  and  consuls  nominated  by  the  emperors, 
the  Romans  seemed  once  more  to  have  regained  a  new  liber- 
ty in  their  privilege  of  choosing  their  bishops.  They  exer- 
cised this  right  with  a  violence  and  a  factious  spirit  that  show- 
ed them  to  be  unworthy  of  possessing  it.  On  an  election-day 
the  streets  of  Rome  were  often  fllled  with  bloodshed  and  riot. 
The  rival  factions  assailed  each  other  with  blows  and  weap- 
ons. Churches  w' ere  garrisoned,  stormed,  sacked,  and  burned ; 
and  the  opposing  candidates,  at  the  head  of  their  respective 
parties,  more  than  once  asserted  their  spiritual  claims  by  force 
of  arms. 

About  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century,  the  famous  Trini- 
tarian controversy  swept  over  the  world,  and  lent  new  ardor 
and  bitterness  to  the  internal  contests  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 
The  Emperor  Constantius  was  an  Arian,  and  had  filled  all  the 
Eastern  sees  with  the  prelates  of  his  own  faith.  His  adver- 
sary, the  rigorous  Athanasius,  fled  to  Rome,  and  had  there 


AN  ASIAN  POPE.  19 

thrown  the  spell  of  his  master-mind  over  Pope  and  people. 
But  Constantius  was  resolved  to  crush  the  last  stronghold  of 
Trinitarianism.  Pope  Liberius,  won  by  the  favors  or  terri- 
fied at  the  threats  of  the  emperor,  at  first  consented  to  a 
condemnation  of  the  doctrine  of  Athanasius.  But  soon  the 
mental  influence  of  the  great  Alexandrian  proved  more  pow- 
erful than  the  material  impulse  of  Constantius.  Liberius  re- 
canted, proclaimed  the  independence  of  the  Roman  See,  and 
launched  the  anathemas  of  the  Church  against  all  who  held 
Arian  opinions,  and  even  against  the  emperor  himself.  All 
Eome  rose  in  revolt  in  defense  of  its  bishop  and  its  creed; 
but  the  unhappy  Liberius  was  seized  at  night,  by  the  orders 
of  the  enraged  Constantius,  and  carried  away  in  exile  to  the 
shores  of  cold  and  inhospitable  Thrace.  He  refused  with  con- 
tempt the  money  sent  him  by  the  emperor  to  pay  the  ex- 
penses of  his  journey.  "Let  him  keep  it,"  said  he  to  the 
messengers,  "  to  pay  his  soldiers.  Do  you  presume  to  offer 
me  alms  as  if  I  were  a  criminal?"  he  exclaimed.  "Away! 
first  become  a  Christian !" 

Two  years  of  exile  in  barbarous  Thrace,  and  the  dread  of  a 
worse  doom,  seem  to  have  shaken  the  resolution  of  the  Pope. 
The  emperor,  too,  had  taken  a  still  more  effectual  means  of 
assailing  the  authority  of  his  rebellious  sul^ject.  Felix,  an  anti- 
pope,  had  been  appointed  at  Rome,  elected  by  three  eunuchs, 
and  Liberius  now  consented  to  renounce  his  communion  with 
Athanasius.  His  people,  and  particularly  the  rich  and  noble 
women  of  Rome,  had  remained  faithful  to  their  exiled  bishop ; 
and  as  he  entered  the  city  a  splendid  throng  came  forth  to  meet 
him,  and  welcomed  him  with  a  triumphal  procession.  Felix, 
the  anti-pope,  fled  before  him,  but  soon  afterward  returned, 
and  it  is  said  that  the  streets,  the  baths,  and  the  churches  were 
the  scenes  of  a  fierce  struggle  between  the  rival  factions. 
Rome  was  filled  with  bloodshed  and  violence,  until  at  last  Li- 
berius triumphed,  and  closed  his  life  in  peace  upon  the  throne 
of  St.  Peter. 

His  death  was  the  signal  for  new  disorders,  and  two  oppos- 
ing candidates,  Damasus  and  L^rsicinus,  contended  for  the  pa- 
pal chair.     The  latter  having  occupied,  with  his  adherents,  the 


20  THE  BISHOPS   OF  SOME. 

Julian  Basilica,  Damasus,  at  the  head  of  a  mob  of  charioteers, 
the  hackmen  of  Kome,  and  a  wild  throng  of  the  lowest  of  the 
people,  broke  into  the  sacred  edifice,  and  encouraged  a  general 
massacre  of  its  defenders.  On  another  occasion  Damasus  as- 
sembled a  force  composed  of  gladiators,  charioteers,  and  labor- 
ers, armed  with  clubs,  swords,  and  axes,  and  stormed  the  Church 
of  S.  Maria  Maggiore,  where  a  party  of  the  rival  faction  had 
intrenched  themselves,  and  massacred  one  hundred  and  sixty 
persons  of  both  sexes.  The  contest  raged  for  a  long  time. 
Another  frightful  massacre  took  place  in  the  Church  of  St. 
Agnes ;  the  civil  powers  in  vain  interfered  to  check  the  vio- 
lence of  the  pious  factions,  and  at  length  the  emperor  was 
obliged  to  appoint  a  heathen  prefect  for  the  city,  who,  by  his 
severe  impartiality,  reduced  the  Christians  to  concord.  Dam- 
asns,  stained  with  bloodshed  and  raging  with  evil  passions, 
was  firmly  seated  on  the  episcopal  throne,  and  seems  to  have 
obtained  the  admiration  and  the  support  of  his  contemporary, 
the  impetuous  St.  Jerome. 

In  the  mean  time  the  magnificent  city  was  still  divided  be- 
tween the  pagans  and  the  Christians.  A  large  part  of  the 
population  still  clung  to  the  ancient  faith.  Many  of  the 
wealthiest  citizens  and  most  of  the  old  aristocracy  still  sac- 
rificed to  Jupiter,  Juno,  and  Minerva,  and  looked  with  scorn 
upon  the  fierce  enthusiasts  who  had  filled  Rome  with  violence 
and  disorder.  In  one  street  the  pagan  temple,  rising  in  se- 
vere majesty,  was  filled  with  its  pious  worshipers,  performing 
rites  and  ceremonies  as  ancient  as  Numa;  in  the  next  the 
Christian  Basilica  resounded  with  the  praises  of  the  triune 
God.  On  one  side  the  white-robed  priest  led  the  willing  vic- 
tim to  the  altar,  and  inspected  the  palpitating  entrails;  on 
the  other  the  Christian  preacher  denounced  in  vigorous  ser- 
mons the  follies  of  the  ancient  superstition.  The  contest, 
however,  did  not  continue  long.  Ambrose,  Bishop  of  Milan, 
enforced  the  condemnation  of  paganism,  and  the  last  marks 
of  respect  were  withdrawn  from  those  tutelar  deities  who  had 
so  long  presided  over  the  destinies  of  Eome. 

The  fourth  century  brought  important  changes  in  the  con- 
dition of  the  bishops  of  Eome.     It  is  a  singular  trait  of  the 


A  HAUGHTY  PRIESTHOOD.  '  21 

corrupt  Christianity  of  this  period  that  the  chief  characteris- 
tic of  the  eminent  prelates  was  a  tierce  and  ungovernable 
pride.  Humility  had  long  ceased  to  be  numbered  among 
the  Christian  virtues.  The  four  great  rulers  of  the  Church 
(the  Bishop  of  Rome  and  the  patriarchs  of  Constantinople, 
Antioch,  and  Alexandria)  were  engaged  in  a  constant  strug- 
gle for  supremacy.  (*)  Even  the  inferior  bishops  assumed  a 
princely  state,  and  surrounded  themselves  with  their  sacred 
courts.  The  vices  of  pride  and  arrogance  descended  to  the 
lower  orders  of  the  clergy ;  the  emperor  himself  was  declared 
to  be  inferior  in  dignity  to  the  simple  presbyter,  and  in  all 
public  entertainments  and  ceremonious  assemblies  the  proud- 
est layman  was  expected  to  take  his  place  below  the  haughty 
churchman.  As  learning  declined  and  the  world  sunk  into 
a  new  barbarism,  the  clergy  elevated  themselves  into  a  ruling 
caste,  and  were  looked  upon  as  half  divine  by  the  rude  Goths 
and  the  degraded  Romans.  It  is  even  said  that  the  pagan 
nations  of  the  West  transferred  to  the  priest  and  monk  the 
same  awe -struck  reverence  which  they  had  been  accustomed 
to  pay  to  their  Druid  teachers.  The  Pope  took  the  place  of 
their  Chief  Druid,  and  was  worshiped  with  idolatrous  devo- 
tion ;  the  meanest  presbyter,  however  vicious  and  degraded, 
seemed,  to  the  ignorant  savages,  a  true  messenger  from  the 
skies. 

At  Rome,  the  splendid  capital,  still  untouched  by  the  Goth, 
the  luxury  and  pride  of  the  princely  caste  had  risen  to  a  kind 
of  madness.  Instead  of  healing  the  wounded  conscience  or 
ministering  to  the  sick  and  the  poor,  the  fashionable  presby- 
ter or  deacon  passed  his  time  in  visiting  wealthy  widows,  and 
extracting  rich  gifts  and  legacies  from  his  superstitious  ad- 
mirers. A  clerical  fop  of  the  period  of  Pope  Damasus  is 
thus  described  by  the  priestly  Juvenal,  St.  Jerome:  "His 
chief  care  is  to  see  that  his  dress  is  well  perfumed,  that  his 
sandals  fit  close  to  his  feet;  his  hair  is  crisped  with  a  curl- 

(')  Gieseler,  i.,  p.  374.  In  381,  the  second  General  Council  gave  the  Bish- 
op of  Constantinople  the  first  rank  after  the  Bishop  of  Kome :  Sid  to  ilvai 
avTrjv  veav  Pojjujji'.  The  appellation  of  patriarch  might  be  given  to  any 
bishop  in  the  fourth  century. 


22  •       THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

ing-pin;  his  fingers  glitter  with  rings;  lie  walks  on  tip -toe 
through  the  streets  lest  he  may  splash  himself  with  the  wet 
soil,  and  when  you  see  him  abroad  you  would  think  him  a 
bridegroom  rather  than  a  priest."  "  Both  deacons  and  pres- 
byters," exclaims  the  monastic  Jerome,  "  strive  for  the  favor 
of  women ;"  and  were,  no  doubt,  in  search  of  wealthy  and 
high-born  wives  among  the  greatest  families  of  Rome.  The 
first  era  of  successful  Christianity,  indeed,  was  more  luxuri- 
ous and  corrupt  than  had  been  that  of  Augustus  or  Tiberius. 
The  bishop  lived  in  imperial  pomp,  the  lower  orders  of  the 
clergy  imitated  his  license  and  his  example ;  the  people  were 
sunk  in  superstition  and  vice ;  when  suddenly  a  terrible  puri- 
fication— a  baptism  of  fire  and  blood — came  upon  the  guilty 

city. 

This  was  no  less  than  the  total  destruction  of  that  costly 
fabric  of  civilization,  the  Roman  Empire,  which  had  been 
erected  by  the  labors  and  sufferings  of  so  many  statesmen, 
warriors,  philosophers,  and  had  seemed  destined  to  control 
forever  the  future  of  Europe  and  mankind.  The  northern 
races  now  descended  upon  the  southern,  and  gained  an  easy 
victory.  Knowledge  ceased  to  be  power,  the  intellectual  sunk 
before  the  material,  and  the  cultivated  Romans  showed  them- 
selves to  have  wholly  lost  the  faculty  of  self-defense — an  ex- 
ample of  national  decay  so  often  repeated  in  history  that  one 
can  scarcely  assert  with  confidence  that  any  people  is  to  remain 
exempted  from  it  forever.  A  few  thousand  Goths  or  Huns 
were  now  more  than  a  match  for  countless  hosts  of  Romans ; 
they  swept  away  the  feeble  defenders  of  Greece,  Italy,  and 
Gaul  with  the  same  ease  that  has  since  marked  the  progress 
of  the  British  in  Hindostan  and  Pizarro  in  Peru.  The  sav- 
ages blotted  great  cities  from  existence,  restored  vast  tracts  of 
cultivated  country  to  its  early  wildness,  and  forced  the  Europe- 
an intellect  to  begin  anew  its  slow  progress  toward  supremacy. 

No  part  of  the  civilized  world  suffered  more  severely  than 
its  capital.  Alaric  entered  Rome  lighted  by  the  flames  of  its 
finest  quarters ;  Genserie  swept  away  almost  its  entire  popula- 
tion. Famine,  pestilence,  and  war  fell  upon  the  Eternal  City. 
The  numbers  of  its  people  decreased  from  one  million  to  less 


POPE  SILVEEIUS.  23 

than  fifty  thousand !  A  few  plague-stricken  and  impoverish- 
ed citizens  wandered  amidst  its  vast  and  still  splendid  ruins ; 
the  elegant  and  licentious  priest,  the  high-born  women,  the 
men  of  letters,  the  luxurious  nobles,  and  the  factious  people 
had  been  carried  away  into  slavery,  or  had  died  of  plague  or 
famine ;  and  the  Christian  fathers,  when  they  would  convey 
to  their  auditors  a  clear  conception  of  the  Judgment-day,  the 
final  dissolution  of  all  things  earthly,  would  compare  it  to 
the  fate  of  Rome. 

The  bishops  of  Eome,  during  this  eventful  period,  became 
the  protectors  and  preservers  of  the  city.  Their  sacred  of- 
fice was  still  respected  by  the  Arian  Goths  and  Vandals ;  the 
large  revenues  of  the  Church  were  applied  to  providing  food 
for  the  starving  people;  and  it  is  possible  that  suffering  and 
humiliation  had  once  more  awakened  something  of  the  puri- 
ty of  early  Christianity  in  the  minds  of  both  priest  and  laity. 
The  bishops,  too,  were  sometimes  the  victims  of  wars  or  civil 
convulsions.  Pope  John,  imprisoned  as  a  traitor  by  the  Ostro- 
gothic  King  Theodoric,  languished  and  died  in  confinement. 
Silverius  was  deposed,  exiled,  and  perhaps  murdered,  by  that 
meekest  of  heroes,  Belisarius,  to  gratify  his  imperious  wife, 
Antonina.  The  successor  of  St.  Peter  was  rudely  summoned 
to  the  Pincian  Palace,  the  military  quarters  of  Belisarius.  In 
the  chamber  of  the  conqueror  sat  Antonina  on  the  bed,  with 
her  patient  husband  at  her  feet.  "What  have  we  done  to 
you.  Pope  Silverius,"  exclaimed  the  imperious  woman,  "  that 
you  should  betray  us  to  the  Goths?"  In  an  instant  the  pall 
was  rent  from  the  shoulders  of  the  unhappy  Pope,  he  was 
hurried  into  another  room,  stripped  of  his  dress  and  clothed 
in  the  garb  of  a  simple  monk,  and  his  deposition  was  pro- 
claimed to  the  clergy  of  Rome.  He  was  afterward  given  up 
to  the  power  of  his  rival  and  successor,  Yigilius,  who  ban- 
ished him  to  the  island  of  Pandataria,  and  is  supposed  to  have 
finally  procured  his  death. 

Stained  with  crime,  a  false  witness  and  a  murderer,  Vigil- 
ius  had  obtained  his  holy  oflice  through  the  power  of  two 
profligate  women  who  now  ruled  the  Roman  world.  Theo- 
dora, the  dissolute  wife  of  Justinian,  and  Antonina,  her  de- 


24  THE  BISHOPS  OF  HOME. 

voted  servant,  assumed  to  determine  the  faith  and  the  des- 
tinies of  the  Christian  Church.  Vigilius  failed  to  satisfy 
the  exacting  demands  of  his  casuistical  mistresses ;  he  even 
ventured  to  differ  from  them  upon  some  obscure  points  of 
doctrine.  His  punishment  soon  followed,  and  the  Bishop  of 
Rome  is  said  to  have  been  draiifo-ed  throuc;!!  the  streets  of  Con- 
stantinople  with  a  rope  around  his  neck,  to  have  been  impris- 
oned in  a  common  dungeon,  and  fed  on  bread  and  water. 
The  papal  chair,  tilled  by  such  unworthy  occupants,  must  have 
sunk  low  in  the  popular  esteem,  had  not  Gregory  the  Great, 
toward  the  close  of  the  sixth  century,  revived  the  dignity  of 
the  ofhce. 

Gregory  was  a  Roman,  of  a  wealthy  and  illustrious  fami- 
ly, the  grandson  of  Pope  Felix  II.  Learned,  accomplished,  a 
fine  speaker,  a  sincere  Christian,  in  his  youth  he  eclipsed  all 
his  contemporaries,  was  distinguished  in  the  debates  of  the 
Senate,  and  Unally  became  the  governor  of  Rome.  (')  The 
emperor,  when  he  visited  Constantinople,  treated  him  with 
marked  confidence,  and  honors  and  emoluments  seemed  to 
have  been  showered  upon  the  young  Roman  with  no  stinted 
hand.  He  was  equally  the  favorite  of  the  court  and  of  the 
people,  and  all  that  the  world  could  give  lay  at  his  command. 
But  suddenly  a  startling  change  came  over  his  active  intel- 
lect ;  the  w^orld  grew  cold  and  repulsive ;  he  stopped  in  his 
career  of  success  and  became  a  monk.  He  expended  his 
wealth  in  founding  monasteries ;  he  sold  his  gold  and  jewels, 
his  silken  robes  and  tasteful  furniture,  and  lavished  the  pro- 
ceeds upon  the  poor.  He  resigned  his  high  offices,  and  hav- 
ing entered  a  monastery  which  he  had  founded  at  Rome,  per- 
formed the  menial  duties  for  his  fellow -monks.  His  body 
was  emaciated  by  terrible  fastings  and  vigils,  his  health  gave 
Avay,  and  his  life  hung  by  a  single  thread.  The  pra^-ers  of  a 
pious  companion  alone  snatched  him  from  an  early  grave. 

From  this  severe  discipline  Gregory  rose  up  a  half-mad- 


(')  Gregory's  numerous  letters  may  be  found  in  Migne's  collection.  See 
vol.  Ixxviii.,  p.  140,  etc.  His  letter  to  Bertha  of  England  recommends 
Augustiu  and  Laureutius  to  her  care. 


GREGORY'S   VISIONS.  25 

dened  enthusiast.  Angels  seemed  to  float  around  him  wher- 
ever he  moved ;  demons  fled  at  his  approach.  His  monastery 
of  St.  Andrew,  over  which  he  became  the  abbot,  was  the  scene 
of  perpetual  miracles.  He  cast  out  devils,  and  angels  cluster- 
ed around  his  holy  seat.  One  of  the  monks  who  had  passed 
his  whole  time  in  singing  psalms,  when  he  died  was  cover- 
ed with  white  flowers  by  invisible  hands ;  and  the  fragrance 
of  flowers  for  many  years  afterward  arose  from  his  tomb. 
Yet,  like  many  enthusiasts,  Gregory  was  capable  of  acts  of 
excessive  cruelty,  and  his  convent  was  ruled  with  unsparing 
severity.  Justus,  the  monk,  who  was  also  a  physician,  had 
watched  over  Gregory  during  a  long  sickness  with  affection- 
ate tenderness.  He  was  himself  seized  with  a  mortal  illness, 
and  when  he  was  dying  confessed  with  bitter  contrition  that, 
contrary  to  the  rules  of  the  monastery,  he  had  hoarded  up 
three  pieces  of  gold.  The  money  was  found,  and  the  guilty 
monk  was  punished  with  singular  cruelty.  Gregory  would 
suffer  no  one  to  approach  the  bed  of  the  dying  man ;  no  sa- 
cred rites,  no  holy  consolation,  soothed  the  accursed  spirit  as 
it  passed  away.  The  body  was  cast  out  upon  a  dunghill, 
together  with  the  three  pieces  of  gold,  while  all  the  monks 
who  had  assembled  around  it  cried  out,  "  Thy  money  perish 
with  thee !"  After  Justus  had  lain  in  torment  for  thirty 
days,  Gregory  relented ;  a  mass  was  said  for  the  aftiicted  soul, 
which  returned  to  the  earth  to  inform  its  companions  that  it 
had  escaped  from  its  fearful  tortures.  Such  were  the  fancies 
of  this  superstitious  age. 

Gregory  was  chosen  Pope  (590)  by  the  united  voice  of  the 
clergy,  the  senate,  and  the  people  of  Rome,  and  the  Emperor 
Maurice  conflrmed  the  election.  But  Gregory  shrunk  from 
assuming  the  holy  office  with  real  alarm.  He  even  fled  in 
disguise  into  the  forest,  but  a  pillar  of  fire  hovering  over  his 
head  betrayed  him.  He  was  seized  and  carried  by  force  to 
the  Church  of  St.  Peter,  and  was  there  consecrated  Supreme 
Pontiff. 

He  might  well  have  trembled  at  the  thought  of  being  in- 
trusted with  the  destiny  of  Christianity  in  those  dark  and 
hopeless  days ;  he  might  well  have  believed,  as  he  ever  did, 


26  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

that  the  end  of  all  things  was  at  hand.  The  world  was  full 
of  anarchy  and  desolation,  and  a  universal  horror  rested  upon 
the  minds  of  men.  From  his  insecure  eminence  at  Rome, 
Gregory  saw  everywhere  around  him  the  wreck  of  nations 
and  the  misery  of  the  human  race.  Germany  was  overrun 
by  hordes  of  savages ;  France,  half  -  barbarian,  groaned  be- 
neath the  Merovingian  rule;  Britain  had  relapsed  into  pa- 
ganism under  the  Saxons ;  Spain  was  held  by  the  Arian  Visi- 
goths ;  Africa  was  fast  becoming  a  desert ;  while  the  feeble 
emperor  at  Constantinople  was  scarcely  known  or  heard  of  in 
the  dominions  over  which  he  held  a  nominal  rule.  Italy  had 
become  the  prey  of  the  tierce  Lombards,  and  these  ruthless 
savages  plundered  and  desolated  the  peninsula  from  the  Po 
to  the  Straits  of  Sicily.  They  massacred  or  sold  into  slavery 
the  whole  population  of  great  cities,  and  made  them  so  des- 
olate that  hermits  chose  their  ruins  as  a  fitting  abode ;  they 
destroyed  convents,  monasteries,  churches,  and  spared  neither 
monks  nor  nuns;  the  very  air  was  tainted  with  carnage,  and 
the  Lombards  seemed  never  sated  with  bloodshed.  At  length, 
in  the  earlier  period  of  Gregory's  pontificate,  the  Lombard 
hordes  approached  to  destroy  Rome.  In  the  midst  of  one  of 
his  most  effective  sermons,  the  Pope  was  startled  by  the  news 
that  the  enemy  were  at  the  gates.  He  broke  off  suddenly,  ex- 
claiming, "  I  am  weary  of  life ;"  but  he  at  once  gave  himself 
to  the  defense  of  the  city.  The  gates  were  closed,  the  crum- 
bling walls  were  manned  by  trembling  citizens,  and  the  sav- 
age assailants  retreated  before  the  apparent  vigor  of  the  monk. 
Yet  the  environs  and  suburbs  of  the  Holy  City  were  involved 
in  a  general  desolation.  The  people  were  swept  away  into 
captivity,  the  villas,  the  monasteries,  and  the  churches  sunk 
into  smoldering  ruins,  and  Gregory  wept  in  vain  over  the  w' oes 
of  his  unhappy  people. 

From  his  ruined  city  Gregory  began  now  to  spread  his  in- 
tellectual influence  over  Europe.  Never  was  there  a  more 
busy  mind.  lie  was  the  finest  preacher  of  his  age ;  and  his 
sermons,  tinged  with  the  fierce  gloom  of  a  monastic  spirit, 
awoke  the  zeal  of  prelates  and  monks.  His  numerous  letters, 
which  still  exist,  show  M'ith  what  keen  attention  he  watched 


GREGORY'S  MENTAL  INFLUENCE.  27 

and  guided  the  conduct  of  his  contemporaries.  He  wrote  in 
tones  of  persuasive  gentleness  to  Bertha,  the  fair  Saxon  Queen 
of  Kent ;  of  bold  expostulation  to  his  nominal  master,  the 
Emperor  Mamice  of  Constantinople.  He  corresponded  with 
the  bishops  and  kings  of  France  and  the  Yisigothic  rulers  of 
Spain ;  he  addressed  his  laborious  but  fanciful  "  Dialogues " 
to  Theodelinda,  Queen  of  the  Lombards ;  he  watched  over 
the  decaying  churches  of  Africa  and  the  feeble  bishoprics  of 
Greece ;  he  urged  forward  the  conversion  of  England,  and 
drove  the  timid  Augustin  to  his  missionary  labors  among 
the  savage  Saxons ;  and  his  wonderful  mental  activity  was 
finally  rewarded  by  the  complete  triumph  of  the  Eomish 
Church.  Spain,  England,  France,  and  even  the  wild  Lom- 
bards and  Arian  Goths,  yielded  to  his  vigorous  assertion  of  the 
authority  of  the  see  of  St.  Peter. 

Gregory  laid  the  foundation  of  that  splendid  ritual  which 
to-day  governs  the  services  of  Romish  chapels  and  cathedrals 
from  Yienna  to  Mexico,  from  Dublin  to  St.  Louis.  He  knew 
the  advantages  of  order,  and  his  "  Ordo  Romanus,"  his  minute 
array  of  rites  and  ceremonies,  drew  together  the  Franks  and 
Goths  in  a  unison  of  religious  observances.  The  world  was 
to  Gregory  a  vast  monastery,  in  which  perfect  discipline  was 
to  be  observed,  and  he  everywhere  enforced  a  strict  unity  of 
forms  and  conduct  throughout  all  his  great  army  of  presby- 
ters and  monks. 

But  it  was  chiefly  upon  the  power  of  music  that  Gregory 
relied  for  softening  the  cruel  natures  of  Goth  and  Hun.  (') 
His  whole  ritual  was  one  of  song  and  melody.  He  was  born 
a  musician,  and  he  impressed  upon  the  services  of  the  Roman 
Church  that  high  excellence  in  musical  intonation  which  has 
ever  been  its  distinguishing  trait.  His  own  choristers  were 
renowned  for  their  sweet  voices  and  artistic  skill,  and  tradi- 
tion represents  the  austere  Pope,  the  master  intellect  of  his 
age,  as  sitting  among  his  singing-boys  with  a  rod  in  his  hand, 

(')  Buruey,  Hist.  Music,  ii.,  p.  16:  "Augustin,  at  his  first  interview  with 
the  Saxon  king,  approached  him  siuging  a  litany  and  a  Gregorian  chant. 
The  French  valued  themselves  upon  their  chanting,  but  the  flexible  voices 
of  the  Koman  singers  surpassed  all  others  in  the  year  600." 


28  THE  Bisnors  of  some. 

chastising  the  careless  and  encouraging  the  gifted  musician. 
The  Gregorian  chants  indeed  proved  to  have  a  singular  charm 
for  the  savage  races  of  the  North.(')  A  band  of  trained  sing- 
ers accompanied  St.  Augustin  in  his  missionary  labors  in  En- 
gland, and  sometimes,  it  is  related,  proved  more  attractive 
than  the  most  eloquent  divines ;  the  Roman  singing-masters, 
carefully  instructed  in  Gregory's  antiphonal,  became  the  teach- 
ers of  Europe ;  Charlemagne,  at  a  later  period,  founded  sing- 
ing-schools in  Germany  upon  the  Gregorian  system,  and  was 
himself  fond  of  chanting  matins  in  his  husky  voice — for  nat- 
ure, so  liberal  to  him  in  all  other  respects,  had  never  designed 
him  for  a  singer;  and  thus  music  became  everywhere  the 
handmaid  ©f  religion,  and  a  powerful  agent  in  advancing  the 
Church  of  Rome. 

A  faint  trace  of  modesty  and  humility  still  characterized  the 
Roman  bishops,  and  they  expressly  disclaimed  any  right  to  the 
supremacy  of  the  Christian  world.  The  Patriarch  of  Constan- 
tinople, who  seems  to  have  looked  with  a  polished  contempt 
upon  his  Western  brother,  the  tenant  of  fallen  Rome  and  the 
bishop  of  the  barbarians,  now  declared  himself  the  Universal 
Bishop  and  the  head  of  the  subject  Church.  But  Gregory  re- 
pelled his  usurpation  with  vigor.(*)  "  Whoever  calls  himself 
Universal  Bishop  is  Antichrist,"  he  exclaimed ;  and  he  com- 
pares the  patriarch  to  Satan,  who  in  his  pride  had  aspired  to 
be  higher  than  the  angels.  Yet,  reasonable  as  Gregory  was 
upon  many  points,  his  boundless  superstition  filled  the  age 
with  terrible  fancies.  On  every  side  he  saw  countless  demons 
threatening  destruction  to  the  elect.  Hell  was  let  loose,  and 
the  earth  swarmed  with  its  treacherous  occupants.     But  fort- 

(')  Gregory  probably  imitated  and  revived  the  musical  services  of  the 
pagan  temples.     See  Migue,  Ixxviii.,  p.  865,  and  the  Ordo  Eomanus. 

(°)  Gregory  I.,  who  must  have  known  his  crimes,  salntes  the  savage 
Phocas  with  devout  joy.  To  Maurice  he  wrote  indignantly  against  the 
usurper  or  rival,  John,  who  claimed  the  universal  bishopric. — Migne, 
Ixxv.,  p.  345,  et  seq.  Migne's  editor  thinks  the  Constantinopolitan  prel- 
ates "  univorsalem  pnefcctnram  forsitan  in  totnm  orbera  Christianum  et 
in  ipsam  Koinanam  Ecclesiam  sibi  viudicatiiri,  nisi  eorum  superbite  quae 
semper  asceudebat  Romani  pontifices  obstitissent "  (p.  347). 


THE   WORSHIP   OF  BELICS.  29 

unately  for  the  Churcli,  it  possessed  a  spiritnal  annorj  which 
no  demon  could  resist.     The  rehcs  of  the  saints  and  the  bones 
of  the  martyrs  were  talismans  insuring  the  perfect  safety  of 
their  possessor;  and  one  of  St.  Peter's  hairs,  or  a  tiling  from 
the  chains  of  St.  Paul,  was  thought  a  gift  worthy  of  kings  and 
queens.     Gregory,  too,  had  conversed  with  persons  who  had 
visited  the  realm  of  spirits  and  had  been  permitted  to  return 
to  the  earth.     A  soldier  described  such  an  adventure  in  lan- 
guage almost  Yirgilian.     He  passed  by  a  bridge  over  a  dark 
and  noisome  river,  and  came  to  an  Elysian  plain,  filled  with 
happy  spirits  clothed  in  white,  and  dwelling  in  radiant  man- 
sions.   Above  all  a  golden  palace  towered  to  the  skies.    Upon 
the  bridge  the  visitor  recognized  one  of  his  friends  who  had 
lately  died,  and  who,  as  he  attempted  to  pass,  slipped,  and  was 
immediately  seized  by  frightful  demons,  who  strove  to  drag 
him  beneath  the  stream ;  but  at  the  same  moment  angelic  be- 
ings caught  him  in  their  arms,  and  a  struggle  began  for  the 
possession  of  the  trembling  soul.     The  result  was  never  told. 
Gregory  the  Great  died  in  604,  having  established  the  pow- 
er  of  the  Koman  bishopric,  and  his  successors  assumed  the  ti- 
tle of  pope.(')    Under  Gregory  the  Roman  See  became  the  ac« 
knowledged  head  of  the  Western  Church.      The  next  impor- 
tant  period  in  its  history  is  the  acquisition  of  its  temporal  do- 
minions by  an  unscrupulous  intrigue  with  the  usurping  kings 
of  France.     Various  circumstances  had  concurred  to  produce 
this  change.     The  Roman  Church  had  become  the  represent- 
ative and  the  chief  defense  of  all  the  corruptions  of  the  an- 
cient faith.      It  adopted  the  worship  of  the  Virgin  and  the 
invocation  of  saints,  the  doctrine  of  purgatory,  and  the  wild- 
est legends  and  traditions  of  the  monkish  writers;  it  advo- 


(*)  Gregory  I.  rejected  the  title  of  Universal  Bishop  as  hlasphemons. 
"Sed  absit  a  cordibus  Christiaiiis  nonien  istud  blaspheniiae,  in  quo  om- 
nium sacerdotum  honor  adiniitur  cum  ab  uno  sibi  demeuter  arrogatur" 
(Ixxvii.,  p.  746).  With  what  horror  would  the  timid  Pope  have  heard  the 
title  "  Vicar  of  God,"  or  the  idea  of  infallibility,  applied  to  himself.  So  to 
John  he  writes :  "  Quid  ergo,  frater  carissime,  in  illo  terribili  examine  ve- 
nientis  judicii  dicturus  es,  qui  non  solum  pater,  sed  etiam  generalis  jjater, 
in  mundo  vocari  appetis  ?"  (Ixxvii.,  p.  742). 


30  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

cated  the  celibacy  of  tlie  clergy ;  its  churches  were  filled  with 
images  and  relics,  and  its  superstitious  laity  surpassed  in  blind 
idolatry  the  follies  of  their  heathen  ancestors.  In  the  mean 
time  the  followers  of  Mohammed,  issuing  from  their  deserts, 
had  conquered  the  East,  Africa,  and  Spain,  threatened  Italy  it- 
self with  subjugation,  and  preached  everywhere  a  single  deity 
and  an  iconoclastic  creed.  While  Christendom  was  filled  with 
idolatry,  the  cultivated  Arabs  aspired  to  the  purest  conception 
of  the  Divine  nature.  The  contrast  became  so  startling  as  to 
awaken  a  sense  of  shame  in  the  breast  of  Leo,  the  Isaurian, 
Emperor  of  the  East.  He  began  in  727-30  the  famous  icon- 
oclastic reform ;  he  ordered  the  images  to  be  broken  to  pieces, 
the  walls  of  the  churches  to  be  whitewashed,  and  prosecuted 
with  honest  but  imprudent  vigor  his  design  of  extirpating 
idolatry.  But  a  fierce  dissension  at  once  raged  throughout 
all  Christendom,  the  monks  and  the  people  rose  in  defense  of 
their  images  and  pictures,  and  the  emperor,  even  in  his  own 
capital,  was  denounced  as  a  heretic  and  a  t^-rant.  There  was 
an  image  of  the  Saviour,  renowned  for  its  miraculous  powers, 
over  the  gate  of  the  imperial  palace,  called  the  Brazen  Gate, 
from  the  rich  tiles  of  gilt  bronze  that  covered  its  magnificent 
vestibule.  The  emperor  ordered  the  sacred  figure  to  be  taken 
down  and  broken  to  pieces.  But  the  people  from  all  parts  of 
the  city  flew  to  the  defense  of  their  favorite  idol,  fell  upon  the 
oflicers,  and  put  many  of  them  to  death.  The  women  were 
even  more  violent  than  the  men ;  like  furies  they  rushed  to 
the  spot,  and,  finding  one  of  the  soldiers  engaged  in  his  un- 
hallowed labor  at  the  top  of  a  ladder,  they  pulled  it  down 
and  tore  him  to  pieces  as  he  lay  bruised  upon  the  ground. 
"  Thus,"  exclaims  the  pious  annalist,  "  did  the  minister  of  the 
emperor's  injustice  fall  at  once  from  the  top  of  a  ladder  to  the 
bottom  of  hell."  The  women  next  flew  to  the  great  church, 
and  finding  the  iconoclastic  patriarch  ofticiating  at  the  altar, 
overwhelmed  him  with  a  shower  of  stones  and  a  thousand 
opprobrious  names.  lie  escaped,  bruised  and  fainting,  from 
the  building.  The  guards  were  now  called  out,  and  the  fe- 
male insurrection  suppressed,  but  not  until  several  of  the 
women  had  perished  in  the  fray. 


THE  POPES  DEFEND  IMAGE-WOESHIP.  31 

The  Pope,  Gregory  II.,  assumed  the  defense  of  image-wor- 
ship. The  Italian  provinces  of  the  Greek  emperor,  known  as 
the  Exarchate,  threw  off  the  imperial  authority  rather  than  part 
with  their  images ;  and  it  was  these  provinces  that  finally  be- 
came the  patrimony  of  St.  Peter,  and  formed  the  chief  part 
of  the  papal  domain.  A  long  struggle,  however,  arose  for  the 
possessions  of  the  Greeks.  The  Lombard  kings,  always  hos- 
tile to  the  Popes,  sought  to  appropriate  the  Exarchate,  and 
the  acute  Popes  appealed  for  aid  to  the  rising  power  of 
France.  But  it  was  not  to  tlie  feeble  Merovintrian  kino-s  that 
they  addressed  themselves,  but  to  Charles  Martel  and  his  am- 
bitious descendants.  To  gratify  their  own  craving  for  tem- 
poral power,  the  Popes  founded  the  new  dynasty  of  the  Car- 
lovingians.  By  the  sanction  and  perhaps  the  suggestion  of 
Pope  Zacharias,  the  last  of  the  phantom  kings  ceased  to  reign 
in  France,  and  Pepin,  the  founder  of  the  Carlovingians,  as- 
cended the  throne  of  Clovis.  The  powerful  Franks  now  be- 
came the  protectors  of  the  papacy.  Pepin,  liberal  to  his  spir- 
itual benefactor,  gave  to  the  Popes  the  Exarchate  and  protect- 
ed them  from  the  Lombards ;  and  thus  France,  always  Cath- 
olic and  always  orthodox,  founded  the  temporal  power  of 
Rome.  The  Lombards,  hoM-ever,  did  not  yield  without  a 
struggle.  On  one  occasion  they  threatened  Pome  itself  with 
destruction ;  and  the  Pope,  Stephen  III.,  in  an  agony  of  terror, 
wrote  two  letters  to  Pepin  claiming  his  protection.  When 
the  Frank  neglected  his  appeals,  the  Pope  ventured  upon 
the  most  remarkable  and  the  most  successful  of  all  the  pious 
frauds.  Pepin  received  a  third  letter,  addressed  to  him  by 
the  Apostle  Peter  himself,  in  his  own  handwriting.  St.  Pe- 
ter and  the  Holy  Virgin,  in  this  curious  epistle,  adjure  the 
Frankish  king  to  save  their  beloved  city  from  the  impious 
Lombards,  and  paradise  and  perpetual  victory  and  prosperity 
are  promised  him  as  his  rewards.  Pepin  obeyed  the  di\ane 
summons,  entered  Italy  as  the  champion  of  St.  Peter,  and  in 
755  bestowed  upon  the  bishops  of  Pome  the  authority  and  the 
dominions  of  a  temporal  prince.  The  gift  was  afterward  en- 
larged and  confirmed  by  Charlemagne.  This  eminent  man, 
who  ruled  over  France,  Germany,  Italy,  and  a  part  of  Spain, 


32  TEE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

altogether  destroyed  the  Lomljard  kingdom,  and  placed  Leo 
III.  securely  on  the  papal  throne.  In  return  the  grateful 
Pope  crowned  the  half -barbarous  Karl,  Augustus  and  Emper- 
or of  the  West.(')  It  was  on  Christmas  of  the  last  year  of 
the  eighth  century.  Charles  and  his  magnificent  court  were 
assembled  at  the  celebration  of  the  Nativity  at  Rome ;  the  Ko- 
man  nobles  and  clergy  looked  on  in  a  splendid  throng ;  the 
Pope  himself  chanted  mass.  At  its  close  he  advanced  to 
Charles,  placed  a  golden  crown  upon  his  head,  and  saluted 
him  as  Cajsar  Augustus.  The  assembly  broke  into  loud  ac- 
clamations, and  Charles,  with  feigned  or  real  reluctance,  con- 
sented to  be  anointed  by  the  hands  of  the  Pope. 

From  this  time  the  Poman  bishops  began  to  take  part  in  the 
politics  of  Europe.  They  made  war  or  peace,  formed  leagues 
and  unholy  alliances,  intrigued,  plotted,  plundered  their  neigh- 
bors, oppressed  their  subjects,  and  filled  Italy  and  Europe  with 
bloodshed  and  crime.  The  possession  of  temporal  power,  that 
"  fatal  gift,"  denounced  by  Dante  and  Milton,  his  translator, 
corrupted  the  sources  of  "Western  Christianity  until  it  became 
the  chief  aim  of  the  later  Popes  to  enlarge  their  possessions 
by  force  or  fraud,  and  add  to  those  rich  territories  which  they 
had  won  from  the  superstition  of  Pepin  and  the  policy  of 
Charlemagne. 

The  great  emperor  died ;  Europe  fell  into  the  anarchy  of 
feudalism,  and  the  bishops  of  Rome  rose  into  new  grandeur 
and  importance.  As  the  successors  of  St.  Peter,  they  assert- 
ed their  supremacy  over  kings  and  emperors,  and  claimed  the 
right  of  disposing  of  crowns  and  kingdoms  at  will.     St.  Pe- 

(')  Annales  Veteres  Francorum.  Migne,  second  series,  xcviii.,  pp.  1410- 
1430:  "Leo  papa  cura  cousilio  onmiiini  episcoponim  sive  sacerdotum  seu 
Sonatu  Framoruin,  necnou  et  Romanornra,  coronam  auream  capiti  ejus 
imposuit,  adjuncto  etiam  popiilo,  acclaiuant,  Carolo  Augusto  a  Deo  coro- 
nato  magno  et  pacifico  imperator  Roniaiiorum  vita  et  victoria."  His  title 
■was  Emperor  of  the  Romans.  So  Odilbert  addresses  him,  "  Caroliis  Sere- 
nissimus  Augustus  a  Deo  coronatus  pacificns  imperator  Romanorum  gu- 
hernans  imperium." — Migne,  xcviii.,  p.  919.  And  Bryce,  Holy  German  Em- 
pire, p.  205:  "Germany  had  adopted  even  the  name  of  the  Empire."  It 
■was  Charlemagne's  aim  to  assume  the  place  of  Constantiue  and  Trajan. 


HILDEBBAND.  33 

ter  no  longer  wrote  humble  letters  asking  aid  from  the  bar- 
barous Frank ;  he  thundered  from  dismantled  Kome  in  the 
menacing  tone  of  command.  The  representative  Pope  of  this 
new  era  was  the  illustrious,  or  the  infamous,  Ilildebrand,  the 
Csesar  of  the  papacy.  Hildebrand  was  the  son  of  a  carpenter, 
but  he  was  destined  to  rule  over  kings  and  nobles.  Ilis  youth 
was  marked  by  intense  austerity,  and  he  was  a  monk  from 
his  boyhood.  He  early  entered  upon  the  monastic  life,  but 
his  leisure  hours  were  passed  in  acquiring  knowledge,  and  his 
bold  and  vigorous  intellect  was  soon  filled  with  schemes  for 
advancing  the  power  and  grandeur  of  the  Church.  Small, 
delicate,  and  unimposing  in  appearance,  his  wonderful  eyes 
often  terrified  the  beholder.  He  came  up  to  Eome,  became 
the  real  master  of  the  Church,  and  was  long  content  to  rule 
in  a  subordinate  position.  Pope  after  Pope  died,  but  Hilde- 
brand still  remained  immovable,  the  guide  and  oracle  of  Kome. 
He  revolved  in  secret  his  favorite  principles,  the  celibacy  of 
the  clergy,  the  supremacy  of  the  Popes,  the  purification  of  the 
Church.  At  length,  in  1073,  on  the  death  of  Alexander  II,, 
the  clergy  with  one  voice  named  Hildebrand  the  successor  of 
St.  Peter.  He  was  at  once  arrayed  in  the  scarlet  robe,  the 
tiara  placed  upon  his  head,  and  Gregory  VII.  was  enthroned, 
weeping  and  reluctant,  in  the  papal  chair. 

His  elevation  was  the  signal  for  the  most  wonderful  change 
in  the  character  and  purposes  of  the  Church.  The  Pope  as- 
pired to  rule  mankind.  He  claimed  an  absolute  power  over 
the  conduct  of  kings,  priests,  and  nations,  and  he  enforced  his 
decrees  by  the  terrible  weapons  of  anathema  and  excommuni- 
cation. He  denounced  the  marriages  of  the  clergy  as  impi- 
ous, and  at  once  there  arose  all  over  Europe  a  fearful  struggle 
between  the  ties  of  natural  affection  and  the  iron  will  of  Greg- 
ory. Heretofore  the  secular  priests  and  bishops  had  married, 
raised  families,  and  lived  blamelessly  as  liusbands  or  fathers, 
in  the  enjoyment  of  marital  and  filial  love.  But  suddenly 
all  this  was  changed.  The  married  priests  were  declared  pol- 
luted and  degraded,  and  were  branded  with  ignominy  and 
shame.  Wives  were  torn  from  their  devoted  husbands,  chil- 
dren were  declared  bastards,  and  the  ruthless  monk,  in  the  face 

3 


34  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

of  the  fiercest  opposition,  made  celibacy  the  rule  of  the  Church. 
The  most  painful  consequences  followed.  The  wretched  wom- 
en, thus  degraded  and  accursed,  were  often  driven  to  suicide 
in  their  despair.  Some  threw  themselves  into  the  flames ; 
others  were  found  dead  in  their  beds,  the  victims  of  grief  or 
of  their  own  resolution  not  to  survive  their  shame,  while  the 
monkish  chroniclers  exult  over  their  misfortunes,  and  tri- 
umphantly consign  them  to  eternal  woe.(') 

Thus  the  clergy  under  Gregory's  guidance  became  a  mo- 
nastic order,  wholly  separated  from  all  temporal  interests,  and 
bound  in  a  perfect  obedience  to  the  Church.  He  next  for- 
bade all  lay  investitures  or  appointments  to  bishoprics  or  oth- 
er clerical  ofiices,  and  declared  himself  the  supreme  ruler  of 
the  ecclesiastical  affairs  of  nations.  No  temporal  sovereign 
could  fill  the  great  European  sees,  or  claim  any  dominion  over 
the  extensive  territories  held  by  eminent  churchmen  in  right 
of  their  spiritual  power.  It  was  against  this  claim  that  the 
Emperor  of  Germany,  Henry  IV.,  rebelled.  The  great  bishop- 
rics of  his  empire,  Cologne,  Bremen,  Treves,  and  many  oth- 
ers, were  liis  most  important  feudatories ;  and  should  he  suf- 
fer the  imperious  Pope  to  govern  them  at  will,  his  O'wn  do- 
minion would  be  reduced  to  a  shadow.  And  now  began  the 
famous  contest  between  Hildebrand  and  Henry — between  the 
carpenter's  son  and  the  successor  of  Charlemagne,  between  the 
Emperor  of  Germany  and  the  Head  of  the  Church.  It  open- 
ed with  an  adventure  that  marks  well  the  wild  and  lawless 
nature  of  the  time.  On  Christmas -eve,  1075,  the  rain  pour- 
ed down  in  torrents  at  Rome,  confining  the  peojDle  to  their 
houses,  while  the  Pope,  with  a  few  ecclesiastics,  was  keeping 
a  holy  vigil  in  the  distant  Church  of  Santa  Maria  Maggiore. 
The  wild  night  and  the  favorable  opportunity  were  seized 
upon  by  Cencius,  a  Roman  baron,  to  wreak  his  vengeance 
upon  Gregory  for  some  former  offense.  His  soldiers  broke 
into  the  church  while  the  Pope  was  celebrating  mass,  rushed 

(')  Migne,  Greg.  Pap.  VII.  Vita,  vol.  cxlviii.,  p.  153.  Migne's  editor  insists 
tliat  Gregory  was  of  noble  origin — "nobile  genere  ortus" — but  adds,  "  Sunt 
qui  dicunt  eum  infirao  ac  penes  sordido  loco  natum,"  etc.  But  see  Voigt, 
Papst  Gregor  VII. ;  Delecluze,  etc. 


GREGORY  VIL  35 

to  the  altar,  and  seized  the  sacred  person  of  the  pontiff.  He 
was  even  wounded  in  the  forehead ;  and,  being  stripped  of  his 
holy  vestments,  was  dragged  away  bleeding  and  faint,  but  pa- 
tient and  unresisting,  and  was  imprisoned  in  a  strong  tower. 
Two  of  the  worshipers,  a  noble  matron  and  a  faithful  friend, 
followed  him  to  his  prison.  The  man  covered  him  with  furs, 
and  warmed  his  chilled  feet  in  his  own  bosom ;  the  woman 
stanched  the  blood,  bound  up  the  wound,  and  sat  weeping  at 
liis  side.  But  the  city  was  now  aroused ;  the  bells  tolled,  the 
trumpets  pealed,  and  the  clergy  who  were  officiating  in  the 
different  churches  broke  off  from  their  services,  and  summon- 
ed the  people  to  the  rescue  of  the  Pope.  As  the  morning 
dawned  a  great  throng  of  his  deliverers  assembled  around  the 
place  of  Gregory's  imprisonment,  uncertain  whether  he  were 
alive  or  dead.  Engines  were  brought  and  planted  against  the 
tower;  its  walls  began  to  tremble  ;  and  the  tierce  Cencius,  now 
terrified  and  despairing,  threw  himself  at  the  Pope's  feet,  beg- 
ging his  forgiveness.  The  j)atient  Pope  consented,  and  only 
imposed  upon  Cencius  the  penance  of  a  pilgrimage  to  Jerusa- 
lem. In  the  mean  time  the  people  broke  into  the  tower,  and 
carried  Gregory  in  triumph  to  the  church  from  whence  he  had 
been  taken,  where  he  finished  the  sacred  rites  which  had  been 
so  rudely  interrupted.  The  assassin  Cencius  and  his  kindred 
were  driven  from  the  city,  and  their  houses  and  strong  towers 
were  razed  to  the  ground. 

It  was  plain  to  all  that  no  physical  danger  could  shake  the 
iron  resolution  of  Gregory:  he  next  determined  to  hmnble 
the  seK- willed  emperor.  Henry,  flushed  with  victory,  sur- 
rounded by  faithful  bishops  and  nobles,  attended  by  mighty 
armies,  had  refused,  with  petulant  contempt,  to  obey  the  de- 
crees of  Eome.  Ilildebrand  summoned  him  to  appear  before 
his  tribunal,  and,  if  he  should  refuse  to  come,  appointed  the 
day  on  which  sentence  of  excommunication  should  be  pro- 
nounced against  him.  The  emperor  replied  by  assembling  a 
council  of  his  German  nobles  and  priests,  who  proclaimed  the 
deposition  of  the  Pope.  All  Christendom  seemed  united  to 
crush  the  Bishop  of  Rome ;  the  married  clergy,  the  Simon- 
ists,  and  all  who  had  received  their  mvestiture  from  temporal 


36  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

sovereigns,  joined  in  a  fierce  denunciation  of  his  usurpation. 
But  Gregory  called  together  a  third  council  in  the  Lateran, 
and  a  miracle  or  an  omen  inspired  the  superstitious  assembly. 
An  egg  was  produced  with  much  awe  and  solemnity,  on  which 
a  serpent  was  traced  in  bold  relief,  recoiling  in  mortal  agony 
from  a  shield  against  which  it  had  vainly  struck  its  fangs. 
The  bishops  gazed  upon  the  prodigy  with  consternation,  but 
Gregory  interpreted  it  with  the  skill  of  a  Koman  augur.  The 
serpent  was  the  dragon  of  the  Apocalypse ;  its  mortal  agony 
foretold  the  triumph  of  the  Church.  A  wild  enthusiasm  fill- 
ed the  assembly,  the  anathema  of  Rome  was  hurled  against 
Henry,  his  subjects  were  absolved  from  their  allegiance,  and 
the  king  was  declared  excommunicated.  The  effect  of  this 
spiritual  weapon  was  wonderful :  the  power  of  the  great  em- 
peror melted  away  like  mist  before  the  wind.  His  priests 
shrunk  from  him  as  a  lost  soul,  his  nobles  abandoned  him,  his 
people  looked  upon  him  with  abhorrence,  and  Henry  was  left 
with  a  few  armed  followers  and  a  few  faithful  bishops  in  a 
lonely  castle  on  the  Rhine. 

Henry,  with  abject  submission,  now  resolved  to  seek  the 
forgiveness  of  the  Pope  in  Rome.  In  mid-winter,  accompa- 
nied by  his  wife,  his  infant  son,  and  one  faithful  attendant, 
having  scarcely  sufiicient  money  to  pay  the  expenses  of  his 
travel,  he  set  out  to  cross  the  Alps  and  throw  himself  at  Greg- 
ory's feet.(')  Never  was  there  a  more  miserable  journey.  The 
vnnter  was  unusually  severe,  and  great  quantities  of  snow  fill- 
ed up  the  Alpine  passes.  The  slippery  surface  was  not  hard 
enough  to  bear  the  weight  of  the  travelers,  and  even  the  most 
experienced  mountaineers  trembled  at  the  dangers  of  the  pas- 
sage. Yet  the  imperial  party  pressed  on  ;  the  king  must  reach 
Italy,  or  his  crown  was  lost  forever.  When,  after  much  toil 
and  suffering,  they  reached  the  summit  of  the  pass,  the  danger 
was  increased.  A  vast  precipice  of  ice  spread  before  them  so 
slippery  and  smooth  that  he  who  entered  upon  it  could  scarce- 

(')  Voigt,  p.  467:  "Es  war  furclitbare  Winter  Kiilte,  so  dass  alle  Fliisse, 
selbst  der  Rliein,  stark  gefroren  waren.  Der  Schnee  im  October  des  vori- 
gen  Jahres  gefalleu  bedeckte  das  Land  bis  zu  Eude  des  Miirz."  Bert. 
Constantin,  an,  1077. 


THE  EMPEROR  AT  CANOSSA.  37 

ly  avoid  being  hurled  into  the  depths  below.  Yet  there  was 
no  leisure  for  hesitation.  The  queen  and  her  infant  son  were 
wrapped  in  the  skins  of  oxen  and  drawn  down  as  if  in  a  sled ; 
the  king,  creeping  on  his  hands  and  knees,  clung  to  the  shoul- 
ders of  the  guides,  and  thus,  half  sliding,  and  sometunes  roll- 
ing down  the  steeper  declivities,  they  reached  the  plain  un- 
harmed.Q 

Gregory,  meanwhile,  doubtful  at  first  of  Henry's  real  de- 
sign, had  taken  refuge  in  the  Castle  of  Canossa,  the  mountain 
stronghold  of  his  unchanging  friend  and  ally,  the  great  Count- 
ess Matilda.  The  praises  of  this  eminent  woman  have  been 
sung  by  poets  and  repeated  by  historians,  but  the  crowning 
trait  of  her  singular  life  was  her  untiring  devotion  to  Greg- 
ory. For  him  she  labored  and  lived ;  on  him  her  treasures 
were  lavished ;  her  mountain  castles  were  his  refuge  in  mo- 
ments of  danger ;  her  armies  fought  in  his  defense ;  she  was 
never  satisfied  unless  the  Pope  was  at  her  side  ;  and  she  made 
a  will  by  which  at  her  death  all  her  rich  possessions  should  re- 
vert to  Gregory  and  the  Church.  Matilda  was  the  daughter 
of  Boniface,  Margrave  of  Tuscany,  and  his  only  heir.  A  celi- 
bate although  wedded,  she  had  been  married  against  her  will 
to  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  and  had  parted  forever  from  her  un- 
welcome husband  on  her  wedding-day.  Hildebrand  alone,  the 
low-born  and  unattractive  monk,  had  won  the  affections  of  the 
high-bred  and  seK-willed  woman  ;  they  were  inseparable  com- 
panions in  adversity  or  success,  and  the  Pope  owed  his  life,  his 
safety,  and  his  most  important  achievements  to  a  member  of 
that  sex  which  he  had  so  bitterly  persecuted  and  contemned. 

To  Canossa  came  Henry,  the  fallen  emperor,  seeking  per- 
mission to  cast  himself  at  his  enemy's  feet-C*)  On  a  bitter 
winter  morning,  when   the  ground  was  covered  deep  with 

(')  Voigt,  p.  468:  "Der  Konig  langte  zu  Canossa  au,  nachdem  er  vorana 
selbst  noch  Italien  betreteu  hatte,  mehrere  Gesandte  an  den  Papst  ge- 
sendet"  (p.  417). 

(*)  Vita  Matbildis,  Migne,  exlviii. :  "Cumque  dies  starent  per  tres  pro 
pace  loquentes  et  pax  nou  esset,  rex  atque  recedere  vellet,"  etc.  Said 
Prince  Bismarck,  in  1873,  "We  will  not  go  to  Canossa;"  and  Germany 
etill  remembers  its  humiliation. 


432740 


38  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

snow,  lie  approaclied  the  eastle  gate,  and  was  admitted  within 
tlie  first  of  the  three  walls  that  sheltered  Gregory  and  Matil- 
da. Clothed  in  a  thin  white  linen  dress,  the  garb  of  a  peni- 
tent, his  feet  bare,  his  head  uncovered,  the  king  awaited  all 
day,  in  the  outer  court,  the  opening  of  the  gate  which  should 
admit  him  to  the  presence  of  Gregory.  But  the  relentless 
Pope  left  him  to  shiver  in  the  cold.  A  second  and  a  third 
day  Henry  stood  as  a  suppliant  before  the  castle  gate,  and, 
hungry,  chilled,  disheartened,  besought  admission,  but  in  vain. 
The  spectators  who  witnessed  his  humiliation  were  touched 
with  compassion,  and  every  heart  but  that  of  Gregory  soften- 
ed toward  the  penitent  king.  At  length  Henry  was  admitted 
to  the  presence  of  the  compassionate  Matilda,  fell  on  his  knees 
before  her,  and  besought  her  merciful  interference.  Gregory 
yielded  to  her  prayers,  and  the  Pope  and  his  rightful  lord, 
whom  he  had  subjugated,  met  at  a  remarkable  interview. 
Tall,  majestic  in  figure,  his  feet  bare  and  still  clad  in  a  peni- 
tential garb,  the  haughty  Henry  bowed  in  terror  and  contri- 
tion before  the  small  and  feeble  gray-haired  old  man  who  had 
made  kings  the  servants  of  the  Church. 

Henry  subscribed  to  every  condition  the  Pope  imposed; 
obedience  to  ecclesiastical  law,  perfect  submission  to  the  Pope, 
even  the  abandonment  of  his  kingdom,  should  such  be  Greg- 
ory's will.  On  these  terms  he  was  absolved,  and  with  down- 
cast eyes  and  broken  spirit  returned  to  meet  the  almost  con- 
temptuous glances  of  his  German  or  Lombard  chiefs.  Yet 
no  man  at  that  moment  was  so  bitterly  hated  by  hosts  of  foes 
as  the  triumphant  Gregory.  Christendom,  which  had  yielded 
to  his  severe  reforms,  abhorred  the  reformer;  Italy  shrunk 
from  his  monastic  rigor ;  even  Rome  was  unquiet,  and  Hilde- 
brand's  only  friends  were  his  faithful  Countess  and  the  Nor- 
man conquerors  of  Naples. 

No  sooner  had  Henry  left  Canossa  than  he  seemed  sudden- 
ly to  recover  from  that  strange  moral  and  mental  prostration 
into  which  his  adversary's  spiritual  arts  had  thrown  him.  He 
was  once  more  a  king.  He  inveighed  in  bitter  terms  against 
the  harshness  and  pride  of  Gregory ;  his  Lombard  chiefs 
gathered  around  him  and  stimulated  him  to  vengeance,  while 


GREGORY  DELIVERED  BY  THE  NORMANS.  39 

Matilda  hurried  the  Pope  back  again,  fearful  for  his  life,  to 
the  impregnable  walls  of  Canossa.  But  the  dangerous  condi- 
tion of  his  German  dominions  for  a  while  delayed  his  plans 
of  vengeance.  The  German  and  Saxon  princes  and  bishops 
who  had  abandoned  him  in  his  moment  of  humiliation,  now 
fearful  of  his  power,  met  in  a  solemn  diet  at  Forchheira, 
deposed  Henry,  and  elected  Rudolph  of  Swabia  in  his  place. 
A  terrible  civil  war,  nourished  by  the  arts  of  Gregory,  desolated 
all  Germany.  The  Pope  once  more  excommunicated  Henry, 
and  declared  his  rival  king ;  and  he  even  ventured  to  prophesy 
that,  unless  Henry  made  his  submission  by  the  29th  of  June, 
the  festival  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  he  would  either  be  de- 
posed or  dead.  The  fierce  priest,  assuming  to  speak  by  in- 
spiration, was  willing  to  be  judged  by  the  failure  or  the  suc- 
cess of  his  vaticination.  But  the  result  was  far  different  from 
his  hopes.  Henry  met  his  adversary,  Rudolph,  on  the  field  of 
Elster;  the  Saxons  conquered,  but  Rudolph  was  slain.  His 
death  allowed  Henry  to  turn  his  arms  against  his  spiritual  foe 
at  Rome*.  He  crossed  the  Alps  into  Italy,  but  not  as  he  had 
crossed  them  four  years  before,  a  heart-broken  and  trembling 
suppliant  weighed  down  by  superstitious  dread.  Excom- 
munication had  lost  its  terrors ;  Gregory  had  been  proved  a 
false  prophet  and  a  deceiver,  and  Matilda's  forces,  defeated 
and  disheartened,  had  fled  to  their  strongholds  in  the  Apen- 
nines. Henry  advanced,  unchecked,  to  the  walls  of  Rome,  and 
laid  siege  to  the  Holy  City.(')  Gregory,  whom  no  dangers 
could  move,  firm  in  his  spiritual  superiority,  made  a  bold  de- 
fense ;  his  people  were  united  in  his  cause,  the  countess  sup- 
plied him  with  considerable  sums  of  money,  and  for  three 
years  the  massive  walls  repelled  the  invader,  and  the  Italian 
saw  with  natural  exultation  the  host  of  abhorred  Germans 
and  Lombards  decimated  by  malarias,  disease,  and  perpetual 
fevers.     At  length,  however,  the  city  fell,  Gregory  retreated 

(')  Matilda  was  to  Hilclebraud  another  Martha.  "  Cui  servat  \\t  altera 
Martha."  In  his  distress,  "Arma,  voluptatem,  fanuilos,  gazani,  propri- 
amque  excitat,  expendit."  Migne,  cxlviii.,  p.  1003.  Says  Voigt :  "  Ma- 
thilda zeigte  schon  in  diesen  Zeiten "  (in  early  youth)  "  uubegriiuzte  An- 
hanglichkeit  an  den  romischen  Stuhl." 


40  THE  BISHOPS  OF  EOME. 

into  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo — a  temporary  refuge  from  the 
vengeance  he  had  invoked — and  Henry  caused  a  rival  Pope, 
under  the  name  of  Clement  III.,  to  be  consecrated  in  St.  Pe- 
ter's, and  received  from  his  hands  the  imperial  crown. 

Gregory's  end  seemed  now  drawing  near.  Famine  and  the 
sword  must  soon  drive  him  from  his  retreat,  and  he  well  knew 
that  he  would  receive  short  shrift  from  his  enraged  German 
lord.  But  at  this  moment  news  came  that  Robert  Guiscard, 
at  the  head  of  a  powerful  force,  was  advancing  from  Southern 
Italy  to  his  rescue.  Henry  retreated,  and  the  Norman  soon 
became  master  of  Pome.  Gregory  was  released,  and  respect- 
fully conducted  to  the  Lateran  Palace ;  but  a  fatal  event  made 
his  return  to  power  the  source  of  incalculable  woes  to  his 
faithful  people.  The  army  that  had  conquered  Pome  was 
composed  of  half-savage  Normans  and  inlidel  Saracens — the 
peculiar  objects  of  hatred  to  the  Poman  populace — and  they 
had  marked  their  entry  into  the  city  by  a  general  pillage  and 
Hcense.  The  Pomans  resolved  upon  revenge.  While  the 
Normans  were  feasting  in  riotous  security,  they  rose  in  revolt, 
and  began  a  terrible  carnage  of  their  conquerors.  The  Nor- 
mans, surprised,  but  well  disciplined,  soon  swept  the  streets 
with  their  cavalry,  while  the  citizens  fought  boldly  from  their 
houses,  and  seemed  for  a  moment  to  gain  the  superiority. 
Guiscard  then  gave  orders  to  set  fire  to  the  houses.  The  city 
was  soon  in  flames ;  convents,  churches,  palaces,  and  private 
dwellings  fed  the  conflagration ;  the  people  rushed  wildly 
through  the  streets,  no  longer  thinking  of  defense,  but  only  of 
the  safety  of  their  wives  and  children ;  while  the  fierce  Nor- 
mans and  Saracens,  maddened  by  their  treachery,  perpetrated 
all  those  horrible  deeds  that  mark  the  sack  of  cities.  Pome 
suffered  more  in  this  terrible  moment  tlian  in  all  the  invasions 
of  the  Goths  and  Yandals.  Thousands  of  its  citizens  were 
sold  into  slavery  or  carried  prisoners  to  Calabria,  and  its  mis- 
erable ruin  was  only  repaii-ed  when  a  new  city  was  gradually 
built  in  a  different  site  on  the  ancient  Campus  Martius.(') 

(')  Voigt,  p.  613 :  "  In  Robert's  Schaaren  war  eine  bedeutende  Zabl  Sara- 
cenen,  die  weder  Mass  nocb  Ziel  kannten."     The  horrors  of  the  sack  sur- 


DEATH  OF  GREGORY  VII.  41 

Gregory,  it  is  said,  looked  calmly  on  the  sack  of  his  faithful 
city.  For  its  destroyers  he  had  no  word  of  reproof.  The 
ferocious  Guiscard  was  still  his  ally  and  his  protector.  He 
retired,  however,  to  Salerno,  being  afraid  to  trust  himself  in 
Rome,  and  from  thence  issued  anew  an  excommunication 
against  Henry  and  the  usurping  pontiff,  Clement  III.  As 
death  approached,  no  consciousness  of  the  great  woes  he  had 
occasioned,  of  the  fierce  wars  he  had  stirred  up,  of  the  ruin  he 
had  brought  upon  Germany,  of  the  desolation  he  had  spread 
over  Italy,  of  the  miserable  fate  of  Rome,  seems  to  have  dis- 
turbed his  sublime  serenity.  At  one  moment  he  had  believed 
himself  a  prophet,  at  another  an  infallible  guide ;  he  was  al- 
ways the  vicegerent  of  Heaven ;  and  just  before  his  death  he 
gave  a  general  absolution  to  the  human  race,  excepting  only 
Henry  and  his  rival  Pope.  He  died  May  25tli,  1085,  having 
bequeathed  to  his  successors  the  principle  that  the  Bishop  of 
Rome  was  the  supreme  power  of  the  earth.  This  was  the 
conception  which  Gregory  plainly  represents. 

The  idea  was  never  lost  to  his  successors.  It  animated  the 
Popes  of  the  eleventh  century  in  their  long  struggle  against 
the  Emperors  of  Germany;  it  stimulated  the  ardor  of  the 
Guelphic  faction,  whose  vigor  gave  liberty  to  Italy ;  but  its 
full  development  is  chiefly  to  be  traced  in  the  character  of  In- 
nocent III.(')  Of  all  the  Bishops  of  Rome,  Innocent  approach- 
ed nearest  to  the  completion  of  Gregory's  grand  idea.  He 
was  the  true  Universal  Bishop,  deposing  kings,  trampling  upon 
nations,  crushing  out  heresy  with  fire  and  the  sword,  relentless 
to  his  enemies,  terrible  to  his  friends — the  incarnation  of  spirit- 
ual despotism  and  pride.  In  the  year  1198,  at  the  age  of  thir- 
ty-seven, in  the  full  strength  of  manhood.  Innocent  ascended 
the  papal  throne.  His  learning  was  profound,  his  morals 
pure ;  he  was  descended  from  a  noble  Italian  family ;  he  had 


passed  all  the  earlier  woes  of  Rome.  So  Voigt,  p.  613.  Says  Delecluze, 
Gr^goire  VII.  (1844) :  "La  plume  se  refuse  ^  tracer  les  borreurs  sauglantes 
qui  eurent  lieu,"  etc. 

Q)  Gesta  Innocentii  PP.  III.,  ab  auctore  anonymo.  Migne,  vol.  ccxiv. 
His  numerous  letters  sbow  bis  imperious  disposition,  bis  wide  ambition, 
and  bis  active  miud. 


42  TEE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

already  written  a  work  on  "  Contempt  of  the  World,  and  the 
Misery  of  Human  Life,"  and  his  haughty  and  self-reliant  in- 
tellect was  well  fitted  to  subdue  that  miserable  world  which 
he  so  pitied  and  contemned.     Yet  his  ruthless  policy  filled 
Europe  with  bloodshed  and  woe.     He  interfered  in  the  affairs 
of  Germany,  and  for  ten  years,  with  but  short  intervals  of 
truce,  that  unhappy  land  was  rent  with  civil  discord.     He  de- 
posed his  enemy,  the  Emperor  Otho,  and  placed  Frederick  IL, 
half  infidel,  half  Saracen,  the  last  of  the  Hohenstaufens,  on 
the  German  throne.     He  ruled  over  Rome  and  Italy  with  an 
iron  hand.     But  it  was  in  France  and  England  that  the  des- 
potic power  of  the  Church  was  felt  in  its  utmost  rigor,  and 
both  those  mighty  kingdoms  were  reduced  to  abject  submis- 
sion to  the  will  of  the  astute  Italian.     France,  in  the  year 
1200,  was  ruled  by  the  firm  hand  of  the  licentious,  self-willed, 
but  vigorous  Philip  Augustus.     Philip,  after  the  death  of  his 
first  wife,  Isabella  of  Hainault,  had  resolved  upon  a  second 
marriage.     He  had  heard  of  the  rare  beauty,  the  long  bright 
hair,  the  gentle  manners  of  Ingeburga,  sister  to  the  King  of 
Denmark,  and  he  sent  to  demand  her  hand.     The  Dane  con- 
sented, and  the  fair  princess  set  sail  for  France,  unconscious  of 
the  Ions  succession  of  sorrows  that  awaited  her  in  that  south- 
ern  land.    The  nuptials  were  celebrated,  the  queen  was  crown- 
ed ;  but  from  that  moment  Philip  shrunk  from  his  bride  with 
shuddering  horror.     No  one  could  tell  the  cause,  nor  did  the 
kino;  ever  reveal  it.     Some  said  that  he  was  under  the  influ- 
ence  of  a  demon,  some  that  he  was  bewitched.     Yet  certain  it 
is  that  he  turned  pale  and  shuddered  at  the  very  sight  of  the 
gentle  and  beautiful  Ingeburga,  that  he  hated  her  with  intense 
vigor,  and  that  he  sacrificed  the  peace  of  his  kingdom,  the 
welfare  of  his  people,  and  very  nearly  his  crown  itself,  rather 
than  acknowledge  as  his  wife  one  who  was  to  him  all  gentle- 
ness and  love.     At  all  hazards,  he  resolved  to  obtain  a  divorce, 
and  the  obsequious  clergy  of  France  soon  gratified  his  wishes 
in  this  respect,  upon  the  pretense  that  the  ill-assorted  pair 
were  within  the  degree  of  consanguinity  limited  by  the  Church. 
The  marriage  was  declared  dissolved.     When  the  news  of  her 
humiliation  was  brought  to  the  unhappy  stranger-queen,  she 


INNOCENT  III.  AND  PHILIP  AUGUSTUS.  43 

cried  out,  in  her  broken  language,  "  Wicked,  wicked  France ! 
Eome,  Eome !"(')  She  refused  to  return  to  Denmark  to  be- 
tray her  disgrace  to  her  countrymen,  but  shut  herself  up  in  a 
convent,  where  her  gentleness  and  her  piety  won  the  sympa- 
thy of  the  nation. 

Philip,  having  thus  relieved  himself  forever,  as  he  no  doubt 
supposed,  of  his  Danish  wife,  began  to  look  round  for  her  suc- 
cessor. Three  noble  ladies  of  France,  however,  refused  his 
offers,  distrustful  of  his  fickle  affections ;  a  fourth,  Agnes, 
daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Meran,  was  more  courageous,  and 
was  rewarded  by  a  most  unusual  constancy.  To  the  fair  Ag- 
nes, Philip  gave  his  heart,  his  hand,  his  kingdom.  His  love 
for  her  rose  almost  to  madness.  For  her  he  bore  the  anathe- 
mas of  the  Church,  the  hatred  of  his  people,  the  murmurs  of 
his  nobles,  the  triumph  of  his  foes.  Beautiful,  young,  intelli- 
gent, graceful,  Agnes  seems  to  have  w^ell  deserved  the  devo- 
tion of  the  king.  Her  gentle  manners  and  various  accom- 
plishments won  the  hearts  of  the  gallant  chivalry  of  France, 
and  even  touched  and  softened  her  enemies — the  austere  cler- 
gy. She  bore  the  king  three  children,  and  his  affection  for 
her  never  ceased  but  with  her  death.  Miserable,  however, 
was  the  fate  of  the  rival  queen,  Ingeburga,  in  her  distress, 
had  appealed  to  Pome ;  her  brother,  the  King  of  Denmark, 
pressed  her  claims  upon  the  Pope ;  while  Philip,  enraged  at 
her  obstinacy,  treated  her  with  singular  cnielty.  She  was 
dragged  from  convent  to  convent,  from  castle  to  castle,  to  in- 
duce her  to  abandon  her  appeal ;  her  prayers  and  her  entreat- 
ies were  received  with  cold  neglect,  and  she  who  was  entitled 
to  be  Queen  of  France  was  the  most  ill-used  woman  in  the 
land. 

She  was  now  at  last  to  find  a  champion  and  a  protector. 
Innocent,  soon  after  his  accession,  resolved  to  interfere  in  the 
affair,  and  to  build  up  the  grandeur  of  his  see  upon  the  misfort- 
unes of  two  unhappy  wives  and  the  violent  king.  Ingeburga, 
however  gentle  and  resigned,  had  never  ceased  to  assert  open- 

(')  Gesta,  p.  95 :  "  Flens  et  ejulans  exclamavit,  ilala  Francia,  mala  Fran- 
da  !  et  adjecerat,  Poma,  Roma .'" 


44  THE  BISROPS  OF  ROME. 

ly  her  marital  claims  ;  she  pursued  her  recreant  husband  with 
a  persistency  only  equaled  by  his  own  obstinate  aversion  to 
her  person,  and  she  now  joined  with  Innocent  in  a  last  effort 
to  reclaim  him.(')  The  Pope  sent  a  legate  into  France  with  a 
command  to  Philip  to  put  away  the  beautiful  Agnes,  and  re- 
ceive back  the  hated  Dane.  If  he  did  not  comply  with  the  or- 
ders of  his  spiritual  father  within  thirty  days,  France  was  to 
be  laid  under  an  interdict,  and  the  sin  of  the  sovereign  was  to 
be  visited  upon  his  unoffending  people.  Philip,  enraged  rath- 
er than  intimidated,  treated  Innocent's  message  with  contempt ; 
the  thirty  days  expired,  and  the  fatal  sentence  was  pronounced. 
For  the  iirst  time  in  the  annals  of  Rome  it  ventured  to  inflict 
a  spiritual  censure  upon  a  whole  nation ;  for  the  effect  of  an 
interdict  was  to  close  the  gates  of  heaven  to  mankind.  All 
over  gay  and  prosperous  France  rested  a  sudden  gloom.f )  The 
churches  were  closed,  and  the  worshipers  driven  from  their 
doors ;  the  rites  of  religion  ceased  ;  marriages  were  celebrated 
in  the  church-yards ;  the  bodies  of  the  dead  were  refused  bu- 
rial in  consecrated  ground,  and  flung  out  to  perish  in  the  cor- 
rupted air ;  baptism  and  the  last  unction  were  the  only  services 
allowed ;  the  voice  of  prayer  and  praise  ceased  throughout  the 
land;  and  the  French  with  astonishment  found  themselves 
condemned  to  eternal  woe  for  the  sin  of  Philip  and  fair  Agnes 
of  Meran. 

The  punishment  seemed  no  doubt  irrational  and  extravagant 
even  to  the  clouded  intellect  of  that  half -savage  age ;  but  it 
was  no  less  effectual.  Philip  sought  to  prevent  the  enforce- 
ment of  the  interdict  by  punishing  the  clergy  who  obeyed  it; 
and  he  swore  that  he  would  lose  half  his  kingdom  rather  than 
part  with  Agnes.  But  Innocent  enforced  the  obedience  of  the 
priests,  France  grew  mutinous  under  its  spiritual  sufferings, 
and  the  king  was  forced  to  submit.     "  I  will  turn  Mohammed- 

(')  Innocent's  letter  to  Philip  is  excellent,  yet  he  was  "willing  to  sacrifice 
all  France  to  an  imperious  church.  See  Migue,  vol.  ii.  Innocent  III.,  p. 
87 :  "  Sane  nee  timor  Domini  nee  reverentia  sedis  apostolicse  matris  tusB," 
etc. 

C)  Gesta,  p.  99 :  "  Sicque  tota  terra  regis  Francorum  arctissimo  est  inter- 
dicto  conclusa." 


PHILIP  SUBDUED.  45 

an,"  lie  cried,  in  his  rage.  "  Happy  Saladin,  who  has  no  Pope 
above  him !"  Agnes,  too,  wrote  a  touciiiug  letter  to  the  Pope, 
in  which  she  said  "  she  cared  not  for  the  crown ;  it  was  on  the 
husband  that  she  had  set  her  love.  Part  me  not  from  him." 
But  Innocent  never  relented.  Agnes  was  torn  from  her  hus- 
band and  her  love,  and  was  confined  in  a  lonely  castle  in^ISTor- 
mandy,  where  she  was  seen  at  times  wandering  upon  the  bat- 
tlements with  wild  gestures  and  disheveled  hair,  her  face  wan 
and  pale,  her  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  and  then  was  seen  no 
more.  Nor  was  Ingeburga  more  happy.  She  was  conducted, 
indeed,  by  a  train  of  Italian  priests  to  the  arms  of  her  loathing 
husband,  and,  whether  witch  or  woman,  Philip  was  forced  to 
receive  her  publicly  as  his  wife.  France  rejoiced,  for  the  in- 
terdict was  removed ;  a  clang  of  bells  announced  the  return  of 
spiritual  peace ;  the  curtains  were  withdrawn  from  crucifixes 
and  images ;  the  doors  of  churches  flew  open  ;  and  a  glad 
throng  of  worshipers  poured  into  the  holy  buildings,  from 
which  for  seven  months  they  had  been  rigidly  excluded.  Yet 
the  change  brought  little  joy  to  the  Queen  of  France.  For 
the  remainder  of  her  life  her  husband  treated  her  sometimes 
with  harshness,  always  with  neglect  and  contempt,  and  her 
plaintive  appeals  against  his  cruelty  sometimes  reached  the 
ears  of  Innocent  at  Rome,  who  would  then  remonstrate  with 
Philip  upon  his  unworthy  conduct  toward  the  daughter,  the 
sister,  and  the  wife  of  a  king. 

The  Pope  next  turned  his  spiritual  arais  against  England, 
and  soon  reduced  that  powerful  and  independent  kingdom  to 
the  condition  of  a  vassal  of  the  Poman  See.  John,  the  wick- 
edest and  the  basest  of  English  kings,  now  sat  on  the  throne. 
His  life  had  been  stained  by  almost  every  form  of  licentious- 
ness and  crime ;  he  had  murdered  his  nephew,  Arthur,  and 
usurped  his  crown ;  he  had  shrunk  from  no  enormity,  and  his 
subjects  looked  upon  him  with  horror  and  disgust ;  Philip  had 
torn  from  him  all  his  continental  possessions ;  and  his  coward- 
ice had  been  as  conspicuous  as  his  vices.  Yet  John  had  ever 
remained  the  favorite  son  of  the  Church,  and  Innocent  would 
still  have  continued  his  ally  and  his  friend  had  not  a  sudden 
quarrel  made  them,  for  the  moment,  the  bitterest  of  foes.     It 


46  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

would  be  impossible  for  us  to  review  the  full  particulars  of 
this  memorable  affair.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  Innocent 
claimed  the  right  of  controlling  the  election  of  the  Archbish- 
op of  Canterbury,  and  that  John  resisted  his  pretension.  The 
Pope  employed  the  instrument  which  had  been  so  effective 
against  France ;  in  1208  England  was  laid  under  an  interdict, 
and  for  four  years  beheld  its  churches  closed,  its  dead  cast  out 
into  unconsecrated  ground,  and  its  whole  religious  life  crushed 
beneath  a  fatal  malediction.  Yet  John  resisted  the  clerical  as- 
sailant with  more  pertinacity  than  Philip,  and  even  endured 
the  final  penalty  of  excommunication,  and  it  was  not  until  In- 
nocent had  bestowed  England  upon  Philip,  and  that  king  had 
prepared  a  considerable  army  to  invade  his  new  dominions, 
that  John's  courage  sunk.  Full  of  hatred  for  the  Pope  and 
for  religion,  it  is  said  that  he  had  resolved  to  become  a  Mo- 
hammedan, and  sent  embassadors  to  the  Caliph  of  Spain  and 
Africa  offering  to  embrace  the  faith  of  the  Koran  in  return  for 
material  aid ;  and  it  is  further  related  that  the  cultivated  Mo- 
hammedan rejected  with  contempt  the  advances  of  the  Chris- 
tian renegade.  So  low,  indeed,  was  sunk  the  moral  dignity  of 
Christianity  under  the  papal  rule,  so  oppressive  was  that  pow- 
er, that  of  the  three  great  potentates  of  Christendom  at  this 
period,  Frederick  II.  was  suspected  of  preferring  the  Koran  to 
the  Bible,  and  both  Philip  Augustus  and  John  are  believed  to 
have  entertained  the  desire  of  adopting  the  tenets  of  the  Ara- 
bian impostor ;  and  all  three  were  no  doubt  objects  of  polish- 
ed scorn  to  the  cultivated  Arabs  of  Bagdad  and  Cordova. 

John  was  soon  reduced  to  submission,  and  his  conduct  was 
so  base  and  dastardly  as  to  awaken  the  scorn  of  his  own  sub- 
jects and  of  Europe.(')  He  gave  up  his  independent  kingdom 
to  be  held  as  a  fief  of  the  Eoman  See,  took  the  oath  of  fealty 
to  Innocent,  and  bound  himself  and  his  successors  to  become 
the  vassals  of  an  Italian  lord.  But  his  shame  was  probably 
lightened  by  a  sense  of  the  bitter  disappointment  which  he 

(')  Innocent  to  John.  Migne,  vol.  iii.,  p.  925,  Epist. :  "  Quod  tu,  fili  charis- 
sime,  prudeuter  attendens,"  etc.  Tlie  Pope  accepts  the  gift  of  England, 
and  confers  it  as  a  fief  upon  John  and  his  heirs. 


THE  ALBIGENSES.  47 

was  thus  enabled  to  inflict  upon  his  enemy,  Philip  Augustus. 
The  Pope,  with  his  usual  indifference  to  the  claims  of  honor 
and  of  faith,  now  prohibited  the  King  of  France  from  pros- 
ecuting his  designs  against  England  ;  and  Philip,  who  at  a 
great  expense  had  assembled  all  the  chivalry  of  his  kingdom, 
was  forced  to  obey.  The  barons  of  England  soon  after  wrest- 
ed from  their  dastard  king  the  Magna  Charta,  and  Innocent 
in  vain  endeavored  to  weaken  the  force  of  that  instrument 
which  laid  the  foundation  of  the  liberties  of  England  and  of 
America. 

But  it  is  chiefly  as  the  first  of  the  great  persecutors  that  In- 
nocent III.  has  deserved  the  execration  of  posterity.  lie  was 
the  destroyer  of  the  Albigenses  and  the  troubadours,  and  the 
first  buds  and  flowers  of  European  literature  were  crushed  by 
the  ruthless  hand  of  the  impassive  Bishop  of  Kome.  Langue- 
doc  and  Provence,  the  southern  provinces  of  modern  France, 
were  at  this  period  the  most  civilized  and  cultivated  portions 
of  Europe.  Amidst  their  graceful  scenery,  their  rich  fields, 
and  magnificent  cities,  the  troubadours  had  first  sung  to  the 
lute  those  plaintive  love-songs,  borrowed  from  the  intellectual 
Arabs,  which  seemed  to  the  rude  but  impassioned  barons  of 
the  South  almost  inspired.  The  Gay  Science  found  its  fitting 
birthplace  along  the  soft  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  the 
Courts  of  Love  were  held  of tenest  at  Montpellier,  Toulouse,  or 
Marseilles.  The  princes  and  nobles  of  that  southern  clime 
were  allowed  to  be  the  models  of  their  age  in  chivalry,  good- 
breeding,  and  a  taste  for  poetry  and  song ;  and  the  people  of 
Languedoc  and  Provence  lived  in  a  luxurious  ease,  rich,  hap- 
py, and  secure.  Upon  this  Eden  Innocent  chanced  to  turn 
his  eyes  and  discover  that  it  was  infested  by  a  most  fatal  form 
of  heresy.  The  troubadours — gay,  witty,  and  indiscreet — had 
long  been  accustomed  to  aim  sharp  satires  at  the  vices  or  the 
superstitions  of  monks  and  bishops;  the  people  had  learned  to 
look  with  pity  and  contempt  upon  the  ignorance  of  their  spir- 
itual guides ;  the  authority  of  the  Church  was  shaken  ;  the 
priest  was  despised,  and  the  "Waldensian  and  Albigensian  doc- 
trines made  rapid  progress  and  found  an  almost  universal  ac- 
ceptance in  the  sunny  lands  of  the  South  of  France.     Pay- 


48  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

mond  VI.,  Count  of  Toulouse,  now  reigned  with  an  easy  sway 
over  this  delightful  territory.  lie  was  believed  to  be  a  here- 
tic, yet  he  was  evidently  no  Puritan.  Gay,  licentious,  gener- 
ous, afEable,  the  count  had  three  wives  living  at  the  same  time, 
and  might  well  have  merited,  by  his  easy  morals,  the  confi- 
dence of  the  Church  of  Rome.  But,  unhappily  for  Raymond, 
his  humanity  surpassed  his  faith,  and  drove  him  to  his  ruin. 
Innocent  was  resolved  to  extirpate  heresy  by  fire  and  sword, 
and  Raymond  was  required  to  execute  the  papal  commands 
upon  his  own  people.  He  was  to  bring  desolation  to  the  fair 
fields  of  Languedoc,  to  banish  or  destroy  the  heretics,  to  lay 
waste  his  own  happy  dominions,  depopulate  his  cities,  cut  off 
the  wisest  and  best  of  his  subjects,  for  the  sake  of  a  corrupt 
and  cruel  Church,  which  he  must  now  more  than  ever  have 
abhorred.  Life  meanwhile  had  flowed  on  for  the  happy  peo- 
ple of  Languedoc  in  mirth  and  perpetual  joy.  They  sung, 
they  danced ;  the  mistress  was  more  honored  than  the  saint, 
and  churches  and  cathedrals  were  abandoned  for  the  Courts 
of  Love.  In  the  fair  city  of  Toulouse  a  perfect  tolerance  pre- 
vailed.(')  The  "  good  men  "  of  Lyons,  the  Cathari  or  Puritans, 
made  converts  undisturbed,  and  even  the  despised  and  reject- 
ed Jews  were  received  with  signal  favor  by  the  good-humored 
Proven§als.  Nothing  was  hated  but  the  bigotry  and  pride  of 
priestcraft ;  and  when  Arnold,  Abbot  of  Citeaux,  a  severe  and 
stern  missionary  of  Rome,  came  to  preach  against  heresy  and 
reclaim  the  erring  to  the  orthodox  faith,  his  most  vigorous 
sermons  were  received  with  shouts  of  ridicule.  "  The  more  he 
preached,"  says  the  Provengal  chronicler, "  the  more  the  peo- 
ple laughed  and  held  him  for  a  fool."  But  a  terrible  doom  was 
now  impending  over  the  merry  land  of  song,  for  Innocent 
had  resolved  to  call  in  the  aid  of  the  temporal  power,  and  in- 
volve both  Raymond  and  his  subjects  in  a  common  ruin.  A 
fatal  event  urged  him  to  immediate  action.  The  papal  legate 
was  assassinated  as  he  was  crossing  the  Rhone,  and  the  Pope 
charged  the  crime  upon  Raymond,  who,  however,  was  wholly 
guiltless.     The  blood  of  the  martyr  called  for  instant  venge- 

(')  See  Fauriel,  Provenjals,  and  the  Provencal  accounts. 


DEATH  OF  THE  TBOUBADOUBS.  49 

ance,  and  Innocent  summoned  the  king,  the  nobles,  and  the 
bishops  of  France  to  a  crusade  against  the  devoted  land. 
"  Up,  most  Christian  king,"  he  wrote  to  Philip  Augustus ; 
"  up,  and  aid  us  in  our  work  of  vengeance !"  His  vengeful 
cries  were  answered  by  a  general  uprising  of  the  chivalry  and 
the  bishops  of  the  North  of  France,  who,  led  by  Simon  de 
Montfort,  hastened  to  the  plunder  of  their  brethren  of  the 
South.  An  immense  army  suddenly  invaded  Languedoc ;  the 
war  was  carried  on  with  a  barbarity  unfamiliar  even  to  that 
cruel  age ;  and  the  Albigenses  and  the  troubadours  were  almost 
blotted  from  existence.  No  Cjuarter  was  given,  no  mercy 
shown,  and  the  battle-cry  of  the  invading  army  was,  "  Slay  all. 
God  will  know  his  own."  At  the  capture  of  Beziers  it  is  es- 
timated that  fifty  thousand  persons  perished  in  the  massacre. 
Harmless  men,  wailing  women,  and  even  babes  at  the  breast 
fell  equally  before  the  monkish  rage  of  Innocent,  and  the 
beautiful  city  was  left  a  smoldering  ruin.  At  the  fall  of 
Minerve,  a  stronghold  in  the  Cevennes,  one  hundred  and  forty 
women,  rather  than  change  their  faith,  leaped  into  a  blazing 
pyre  and  were  consumed.  When  Lavaur,  a  noted  seat  of  her- 
esy, was  taken,  a  general  massacre  was  allowed ;  and  men, 
women,  and  children  were  cut  to  pieces,  until  there  was  noth- 
ing left  to  kill,  except  four  hundred  of  the  garrison,  \vho  were 
burned  in  a  single  pile,  which,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  victo- 
rious Catholics,  made  a  wonderful  blaze.  After  a  long  and 
brave  resistance,  the  Albigensian  armies  were  destroyed,  and 
the  desolate  land,  once  so  beautiful,  fell  wholly  into  the  power 
of  the  Catholics.  The  song  of  the  troubadour  was  hushed 
forever,  the  gay  people  sunk  into  melancholy  under  the  monk- 
ish rale,  their  very  language  was  proscribed,  and  a  terrible  in- 
quisition was  established  to  crush  more  perfectly  the  lingering 
seeds  of  heresy.  Every  priest  and  every  lord  was  appointed  an 
inquisitor,  and  whoever  harbored  a  heretic  was  made  a  slave. 
Even  the  house  in  which  a  heretic  was  found  was  to  be  razed 
to  the  ground ;  no  layman  was  permitted  to  possess  a  Bible ; 
a  reward  of  a  mark  was  set  for  the  head  of  a  heretic ;  and  all 
caves  and  hiding-places  where  the  Albigenses  might  take  ref- 
uge were  to  be  carefully  closed  up  by  the  lord  of  the  estate. 

4: 


50  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

Two  agents  of  rare  vigor  had  suddenly  appeared  to  aid  In- 
nocent in  his  conquest  of  mankind ;  two  men  of  singular  mor- 
al and  mental  strength  placed  themselves  at  his  command. (') 
St.  Dominic  and  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  founded,  under  his  su- 
pervision, the  two  great  orders  of  mendicant  monks.  Dominic 
was  a  Spaniard  of  high  hirth,  fierce,  dark,  gloomy,  unsparing, 
the  author  of  the  Inquisition.  His  history  is  lost  in  a  cloud 
of  miracles,  in  which  it  has  been  enveloped  by  his  devout  dis- 
ciples ;  he  cast  out  Satan,  who  ran  from  him  in  the  form  of  a 
great  black  cat  with  glittering  eyes ;  he  raised  the  dead,  heal- 
ed the  sick,  and  more  than  equaled  the  miracles  of  the  Gospel. 
Yet  the  real  achievements  of  Dominic  are  sufficiently  wonder- 
ful. He  founded  the  order  of  preaching  friars,  who,  living 
upon  alms  and  bound  to  a  perfect  self-denial,  knew  no  master 
but  Dominic  and  the  Pope,  and  before  he  died  he  saw  a  count- 
less host  of  his  disciples  spread  over  every  part  of  Europe. 
Dominic  is  chiefly  known  as  the  persecutor  of  the  heretics. 
He  infused  into  the  Eoman  Church  that  tierce  thirst  for  blood 
which  was  exemplified  in  Philip  II.  and  Alva ;  he  hovered 
around  the  armies  that  blasted  and  desolated  Languedoc,  and 
his  miraculous  eloquence  was  aimed  with  fatal  effect  against 
the  polished  freethinkers  of  that  unhappy  land.  His  admir- 
ers unite  in  ascribing  to  him  tlie  founding  of  the  Inquisition. 
"What  glory,  splendor,  and  dignity,"  exclaims  one  of  them, 
"belong  to  the  Order  of  Preachers  words  can  not  express! 
for  the  Holy  Inquisition  owes  its  origin  to  St.  Dominic,  and 
was  propagated  by  his  faithful  followers." 

St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  a  gentler  madman,  was  equally  suc- 
cessful with  Dominic  in  founding  a  new  order  of  ascetics. 
Born  of  a  wealthy  parentage,  Francis  passed  his  youth  in 
song  and  revel  until  a  violent  fever  won  hira  from  the  world. 
His  mild  and  generous  nature  now  turned  to  universal  benev- 
olence ;  he  threw  asid-e  his  rich  dress  and  joined  a  troop  of 
beggars ;  he  clothed  himself  in  rags  and  gave  all  that  he  had 
to  the  poor.  His  bride,  he  declared,  was  Poverty,  and  he  would 
only  live  by  mendicancy ;  he  resolved  to  abase  himself  below 

(')  Miluiau,  Lat.  Christ.;  Gieseler,  Eccl.  Hist. 


MEXDICAXT  ORDERS.  51 

the  meanest  of  his  species,  and  he  devoted  himself  to  the  care 
of  lepers — the  outcasts  of  mankind ;  he  tended  them  with  af- 
fectionate assiduity,  washed  their  feet,  and  sometimes  healed 
them  miraculously  with  a  kiss.  This  strange  and  fervent  pi- 
ety, joined  to  his  touching  eloquence  and  poetic  fancy,  soon 
won  for  St.  Francis  a  throng  of  followers,  who  imitated  his 
humility  and  took  the  vow  of  perpetual  poverty.  He  now  re- 
solved to  convert  the  world ;  but  he  must  first  gain  the  sanc- 
tion of  the  Pope.  Innocent  III.  was  walking  on  the  terrace 
of  the  splendid  Lateran  when  a  mendicant  of  mean  appear- 
ance presented  himself,  and  proposed  to  convert  mankind 
through  poverty  and  humility.  It  was  St.  Francis.  The  Pope 
at  first  dismissed  him  with  contempt ;  but  a  vision  warned  him 
not  to  neglect  the  pious  appeal.  The  Order  of  St.  Francis  was 
founded,  and  countless  hosts  soon  took  the  vow  of  chastity, 
poverty,  and  obedience.  The  Franciscans  were  the  gentlest 
of  mankind :  they  lived  on  alms.  If  stricken  on  one  cheek, 
they  offered  the  other ;  if  robbed  of  a  part  of  their  dress,  they 
gave  the  whole.  Love  was  to  be  the  binding  element  of  the 
brotherhood  ;  and  the  sweet  effluence  of  universal  charity,  the 
poetic  dream  of  the  gentle  Francis,  was  to  be  spread  over  all 
mankind. 

How  rapidly  the  Franciscans  and  Dominicans  declined  from 
the  rigid  purity  of  their  founders  need  scarcely  be  told.  In  a 
few  years  their  monasteries  grew  splendid,  their  possessions 
were  vast,  their  vows  of  poverty  and  purity  were  neglected  or 
forgotten,  and  the  two  orders,  tilled  with  emulation  and  spirit- 
ual pride,  contended  with  each  other  for  the  control  of  Cliris- 
tendoni.  Innocent,  meantime,  died  in  1216,  in  the  full  strength 
of  manhood,  yet  having  accomplished  every  object  for  whicli 
his  towering  spirit  had  lalxjred  so  unceasingly.  He  liad  crnsli- 
ed  and  mortified  the  pride  of  every  European  monarch,  had 
exalted  the  Church  upon  the  wreck  of  nations,  had  seeming- 
ly extirpated  heresy,  and  was  become  that  Universal  Bishop 
which,  to  the  modest  Gregory  the  Great,  had  seemed  the  sym- 
bol of  Antichrist  and  the  invention  of  Satanic  pride. 

The  next  phase  in  which  the  papacy  exhibits  itself  is  the 
natural  result  of  the  possession  of  absolute  temporal  and  spir- 


52  THE  BISHOPS  OF  ROME. 

itiial  power;  the  next  representative  Pope  is  a  Borgia.  In 
no  other  place  than  Rome  could  a  Borgia  have  arisen;  in  no 
other  position  than  that  of  Pope  could  so  frightful  a  monster 
have  maintained  his  power.  Alexander  YI.,  or  Koderic  Bor- 
gia, a  Spaniard  of  noble  family  and  nephew  to  Pope  Calixtus 
III.,  was  early  brought  to  Eome  by  his  uncle,  and  made  a 
cardinal  in  spite  of  his  vices  and  his  love  of  ease.  He  became 
Pope  in  1492  by  the  grossest  simony.  Alexander's  only  ob- 
ject was  the  gratification  of  his  own  desires  and  the  exaltation 
of  his  natural  children.  Of  these,  whom  he  called  his  neph- 
ews, there  were  five — one  son  being  Caesar  Borgia,  and  one 
daughter  the  infamous  Lucrezia.(')  Alexander  is  represented 
to  have  been  a  poisoner,  a  robber,  a  hypocrite,  a  treacherous 
friend.  His  children  in  all  these  traits  of  wickedness  sur- 
passed their  father.  Ceesar  Borgia,  beautiful  in  person,  and 
so  strong  that  in  a  bull-fight  he  struck  off  the  head  of  the  ani- 
mal at  a  single  blow — a  majestic  monster  ruled  by  unbridled 
passions  and  stained  Mnth  blood — now  governed  Rome  and  his 
father  by  the  terror  of  his  crimes.  Every  night,  in  the  streets 
of  the  city,  were  found  the  coii^ses  of  persons  whom  he  had 
murdered  either  for  their  money  or  for  revenge ;  yet  no  one 
dared  to  name  the  assassin.  Those  whom  he  could  not  reach 
by  violence  he  took  off  by  poison.  His  first  victim  was  his 
own  elder  brother,  Francis,  Duke  of  Gandia,  whom  Alexander 
loved  most  of  all  his  children,  and  whose  rapid  rise  in  wealth 
and  station  excited  the  hatred  of  the  fearful  Caesar.  Francis 
had  just  been  appointed  Duke  of  Benevento ;  and  before  he 
set  out  for  Naples  there  was  a  family  party  of  the  Borgias 
one  evening  at  the  papal  palace,  where  no  doubt  a  strange 
kind  of  mirth  and  hilarity  prevailed.  The  two  brothers  left 
together,  and  parted  with  a  pleasant  farewell,  Caesar  having 
meantime  provided  four  assassins  to  waylay  his  victim  that 
very  night.     The  next  morning  the  duke  was  missing ;  sev- 

(')  Ranke,  Popes,  p.  30,  describes  the  horrible  family.  Gregorovius  (Lu- 
crezia  Borgia),  iu  his  recent  work,  -would  soften  the  terrible  lineameuts  of 
Lncrezia's  historical  renown.  But  even  at  Ferrara  Mr.  Symonds  (Renais- 
sance) indicates  that  she  must  have  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  fearful 
deeds. 


THE  BORGIAS.  53 

eral  days  passed,  but  he  did  not  return.  It  was  believed  that 
he  was  murdered ;  and  Alexander,  full  of  grief,  ordered  the 
Tiber  to  be  dragged  for  the  body  of  his  favorite  child.  An 
enemy,  he  thought,  had  made  away  with  him.  He  little  sus- 
pected who  that  enemy  was.  At  length  a  Sclavonian  water- 
man came  to  the  palace  with  a  startling  story.  He  said  that 
on  the  night  when  the  prince  disappeared,  while  he  was  watch- 
ing some  timber  on  the  river,  he  saw  two  men  approach  the 
bank,  and  look  cautiously  around  to  see  if  they  were  observed. 
Seeing  no  one,  they  made  a  signal  to  two  others,  one  of  whom 
was  on  horseback,  and  who  carried  a  dead  body  swung  care- 
lessly across  his  horse.  He  advanced  to  the  river,  flung  the 
corpse  far  into  the  water,  and  then  rode  away.  Upon  being 
asked  why  he  had  not  mentioned  this  before,  the  waterman  re- 
plied that  it  was  a  common  occurrence,  and  that  he  had  seen 
more  than  a  hundred  bodies  thrown  into  the  Tiber  in  a  simi- 
lar manner.  The  search  was  now  renewed,  and  the  body  of 
the  ill-fated  Francis  was  found  pierced  by  nine  mortal  wounds. 
Alexander  buried  his  son  with  great  pomp,  and  offered  large 
rewards  for  the  discovery  of  his  murderers.  At  last  the  terri- 
ble secret  was  revealed  to  him  ;  he  hid  himself  in  his  palace, 
refused  food,  and  abandoned  himself  to  grief.  Here  he  was 
visited  by  the  mother  of  his  children,  who  still  lived  at  Kome. 
What  passed  at  their  interview  was  never  known ;  but  all  in- 
quiry into  the  murder  ceased,  and  Alexander  was  soon  again 
immersed  in  his  pleasures  and  his  ambitious  designs. 

Cgesar  Borgia  now  ruled  unrestrained,  and  preyed  upon  the 
Romans  like  some  fabulous  monster  of  Greek  mythology. 
He  would  suffer  no  rival  to  live,  and  he  made  no  secret  of  his 
murderous  designs..  His  brother-in-law  was  stabbed  by  his 
orders  on  the  steps  of  the  palace.  The  wounded  man  was 
nursed  by  his  wife  and  his  sister,  the  latter  preparing  his  food 
lest  he  might  be  carried  off  by  poison,  while  the  Pope  set  a 
guard  around  the  house  to  protect  his  son-in-law  from  his  son. 
Csesar  laughed  at  these  precautions.  "What  can  not  be  done 
in  the  noonday,"  he  said, "  may  be  brought  about  in  the  even- 
ing." He  broke  into  the  chamber  of  his  brother-in-law,  drove 
out  the  wife  and  sister,  and  had  him  strangled  by  the  common 


54  THE  BISHOPS  OF  EOME. 

executioner.  He  stabbed  his  father's  favorite,  Perotto,  while 
he  ckiiig  to  his  patron  for  protection,  and  the  blood  of  the  vic- 
tim flowed  over  the  face  and  robes  of  the  Pope.  Lucrezia 
Borgia  rivaled,  or  surpassed,  the  crimes  of  her  brother ;  while 
Alexander  himself  performed  the  holy  rites  of  the  Church 
with  singular  exactness,  and  in  his  leisure  moments  poisoned 
wealthy  cardinals  and  seized  upon  their  estates.  He  is  said 
to  have  been  singularly  engaging  in  his  manners,  and  most 
agreeable  in  the  society  of  those  whom  he  had  resolved  to  de- 
stroy. At  length,  Alexander  jierished  by  his  own  arts.  He 
gave  a  grand  entertainment,  at  which  one  or  more  wealthy 
cardinals  were  invited  for  the  pm'pose  of  being  poisoned,  and 
Caesar  Borgia  was  to  provide  the  means.  He  sent  several 
flasks  of  poisoned  wine  to  the  table,  with  strict  orders  not  to 
use  them  except  by  his  directions.  Alexander  came  early  to 
the  banquet,  heated  with  exercise,  and  called  for  some  refresh- 
ment ;  the  servants  brought  him  the  poisoned  wine,  supposing 
it  to  be  of  rare  excellence ;  he  drank  of  it  freely,  and  was 
soon  in  the  pangs  of  death.  His  blackened  body  was  buried 
Avitli  all  the  pomp  of  the  Eoman  ritual. 

Scarcely  is  the  story  of  the  Borgias  to  be  believed :  such  a 
father,  such  children,  have  nev^er  been  known  before  or  since. 
Yet  the  accurate  historians  of  Italy,  and  the  careful  Ranke, 
unite  in  the  general  outline  of  their  crimes.  On  no  other 
throne  than  the  temporal  empire  of  Pome  has  sat  such  a  crim- 
inal as  Alexander ;  in  no  other  city  than  Pome  could  a  Caesar 
Borgia  have  pursued  his  horrible  career;  in  none  other  was 
a  Lucrezia  Borgia  ever  known.  The  Pope  was  the  absolute 
master  of  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  his  subjects ;  he  was  also 
the  absolute  master  of  their  souls ;  and  the  union  of  these  two 
despotisms  produced  at  Rome  a  form  of  human  wickedness 
which  romance  has  never  imagined,  and  which  history  shud- 
ders to  describe. 

AVe  may  pause  at  this  era  in  our  review  of  the  represent- 
ative bishops  of  Pome,  since  the  Peformation  was  soon  to 
throw  a  softening  and  refining  light  upon  the  progress  of  the 
papacy.  There  were  to  be  no  more  Borgias,  no  second  Inno- 
cent ;  the  fresh  blasts  from  the  North  were  to  purify  in  some 


THE  MODERN  POPES.  55 

measure  the  malarious  atmospliere  of  the  Holy  Citj.(')  Yet 
I  trust  tliis  brief  series  of  pictures  of  the  early  bishops  will 
not  hav^e  been  without  interest  to  the  candid  reader,  and  he 
will  observe  that  it  was  only  as  the  Koman  Church  aban- 
doned the  primeval  laws  of  gentleness,  humility,  and  humani- 
ty that  it  ceased  to  be  the  benefactor  of  the  barbarous  races  it 
had  subdued.  As  the  splendid  panorama  passes  before  us,  and 
we  survey  the  meek  and  holy  Stephen  perishing  a  sainted 
martyr  in  the  Catacombs ;  the  modest  Gregory,  the  first  sing- 
ing-master of  Europe,  soothing  the  savage  world  to  obedience 
and  order  by  the  sweet  influence  of  his  holy  songs ;  the  cun- 
ning Zacharias  winning  a  temporal  crown  from  the  grateful 
Frank;  Hildebrand  rising  in  haughty  intellectual  pre-emi- 
nence above  kings  and  princes ;  Innocent  III.  trampling  upon 
the  rights  of  nations,  and  lifting  over  Europe  his  persecuting 
arm,  red  with  the  guiltless  blood  of  the  troubadours  and  the 
Albigenses ;  or  a  Borgia,  the  incarnation  of  sin — we  shall  have 
little  difficulty  in  discovering  why  it  is  that  the  bishops  of 
Rome  have  faded  into  a  magnificent  pageant  before  the  rise 
of  a  purer  knowledge,  and  why  it  is  that  the  Pope  of  to-day, 
surrounded  by  the  most  splendid  of  earthly  rituals,  and  pro- 
nouncing from  the  Vatican  the  anathemas  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  is  heard  with  mingled  pity  and  derision  by  the  vigor- 
ous intellect  of  the  nations  over  which  his  predecessors  once 
held  an  undisputed  sway. 

(')  Yet  the  inventors  of  the  Eoman  Inquisition  may  possibly  not  deserve 
even  this  doubtful  praise.  From  1540  to  1700,  the  popes  were  possibly 
more  dangerous  to  mankind  than  many  Borgias. 


LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

Theke  was  joy  at  Home  in  tlie  year  1513,  for  Pope  Julius 
II.  was  dead.  It  was  no  unusual  thing,  indeed,  for  the  Eo- 
mans  to  rejoice  at  the  death  of  a  Pope.  If  there  was  any  one 
the  i)eople  of  the  Holy  City  contemned  and  hated  more  than 
all  other  men,  it  ras  usually  their  spiritual  father,  whose  bless- 
ings they  so  devoutly  received ;  and  next  to  him  his  countless 
officials,  who  preyed  upon  their  fellow-citizens  as  tax-gather- 
ers, notaries,  and  a  long  gradation  of  dignities.  But  upon  Ju- 
lius, the  withered  and  palsied  old  man,  the  rage  of  the  people 
had  turned  with  unprecedented  vigor.(')  He  had  been  a  light- 
ing Pope.  His  feeble  frame  had  been  torn  by  unsated  and  in- 
satiable passions  that  would  have  become  a  Csesar  or  an  Alex- 
ander, but  which  seemed  almost  demoniac  in  this  terrible  old 
man.  His  ambition  had  been  the  cui'se  of  Eome,  of  Italy,  of 
Europe ;  he  had  set  nations  at  enmity  in  the  hope  of  enlarging 
his  temporal  power ;  he  had  made  insincere  leagues  and  trea- 
ties in  order  to  escape  the  punishment  of  his  crimes ;  his  plight- 
ed faith  was  held  a  mockery  in  all  the  European  courts ;  his 
fits  of  rage  and  impotent  malice  made  him  the  laughing-stock 
of  kings  and  princes;  and  the  cost  of  his  feeble  wars  and 
faithless  alliances  had  left  Rome  the  pauper  city  of  Europe. 

And  now  Julius  M-as  dead.     The  certainty  that  his  fierce 

•spirit  was  fled  forever  had  been  tested  by  all  the  suspicious 

forms  of  the   Roman   Church.      The   Cardinal   Camerlengo 

stood  before  the  door  of  the  Pope's  chamber,  struck  it  with  a 

gilt  mallet,  and  called  Julius  by  name.     Receiving  no  answer, 


(*)  He  was  in  the  habit  of  using  his  pastoral  staflf  to  punish  dull  bishops 
— probably  its  original  design.  De  La  Chatre,  Hist,  des  Papes:  "Desrjne 
Jules  II.  cut  terniiuc  sou  execrable  vie."  Eoscoe  and  Raukc  are  more  fa- 
vorable to  Julius. 


A    CONCLAVE.  57 

he  entered  tlie  room,  tapped  tlie  corpse  on  tlie  head  with  a 
mallet  of  silver,  and  then,  falling  npon  his  knees  before  the 
lifeless  body,  proclaimed  the  death  of  the  Pope.(')  Next  the 
tolling  of  the  great  bell  in  the  Capitol,  which  was  sounded 
upon  these  solemn  occasions  alone,  announced  to  Rome  and 
to  the  Church  that  the  Holy  Father  was  no  more.  Its  heavy 
note  was  the  signal  for  a  reign  of  universal  license  and  mis- 
rule. Ten  days  are  always  allowed  to  pass  between  the  death 
of  a  Pope  and  the  meeting  of  the  conclave  of  cardinals  for  the 
election  of  his  successor ;  and  during  that  period  it  was  long 
an  established  custom  that  Kome  should  be  abandoned  to  riot, 
bloodshed,  pillage,  and  every  species  of  crime.  The  very 
chamber  of  the  dead  Pope  was  entered  and  sacked.  The  city 
wore  the  appearance  of  a  civil  war.  The  papal  soldiery,  ill 
paid  and  half  fed,  roamed  through  the  streets  robbing,  mur- 
dering, and  committing  a  thousand  outrages  unrestrained. 
Palaces  were  plundered,  houses  sacked,  quiet  citizens  were 
robbed,  murdered,  and  their  bodies  left  in  the  streets  or  thrown 
into  the  Tiber.  "  Not  a  day  passed,"  wrote  Gigli,  an  observer 
of  one  of  these  dreadful  saturnalia,  "  without  brawls,  murders, 
and  waylayings."  At  length  the  nobles  fortified  and  garri- 
soned their  palaces,  barricades  were  drawn  across  the  principal 
streets,  and  only  the  miserable  shop-keepers  and  tradesmen 
were  left  exposed  to  the  outrages  of  the  papal  banditti. (*) 

Meantime  the  holy  conclave  of  cardinals  was  sunnnoned  to 
meet  for  the  election  of  a  successor  to  St.  Peter.  The  whole 
of  the  first-floor  of  the  Vatican,  an  immense  range  of  apart- 
ments, now  no  longer  used  for  electoral  purposes,  was  pre- 
pared for  the  important  occasion.  Within  its  ample  limits  a 
booth  or  cell  was  provided  for  each  cardinal,  where  he  lived 
during  the  sitting  of  the  assembly  separate  from  his  fellows. 
The  booths  were  distributed  by  a  raffle.  A  certain  number 
of  attendants,  called  conclavists,  were  allowed  to  the  cardi- 


es)  I  have  assumed  that  all  tlie  usual  ceremonies  were  emploj-cd  at  the 
death  of  Julius. 

(^)  Coriueuin,  Hist.  Popes,  Leo  X.  See  North  British  lievieic,  December, 
1866,  art.  Conclaves. 


58  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

nals,  wlio  remained  shut  up  with  them  during  the  election, 
and  whose  privilege  it  was  to  plunder  the  cell  of  the  newly 
chosen  Pope  the  moment  the  choice  was  announced.(') 

Before  the  final  closing  of  the  assembly  to  the  world  the 
Vatican  presented  a  gay  and  splendid  scene.  All  the  great 
and  noble  of  Rome  came  to  visit  the  cardinals  in  their  cells. 
Princes  and  magnates,  foreign  embassadors  and  political  en- 
voys from  the  various  Catholic  powers,  aspiring  confessors 
and  diplomatic  priests,  hurried  from  cell  to  cell  on  that  impor- 
tant afternoon,  whispering  bribes,  flatteries,  or  threats  into 
each  sacred  ear ;  electioneering  with  all  the  ardor  of  a  village 
politician  for  their  favorite  candidate,  or  the  choice  of  their 
mighty  courts  at  home ;  or  indicating  in  distinct  menace  those 
persons  whom  Austria,  France,  and  Spain  would  never  snfier 
to  w^ear  the  triple  crown.  At  three  hours  after  sunset  a  bell 
was  heard  ringing  loudly,  and  the  master  of  ceremonies  com- 
ing forward  called  out,  JS'd'tpa  omnes.  The  vast  and  busy 
throng  was  slowly  and  reluctantly  dispersed.  The  last  per- 
suasion was  ofliered,  the  last  bribe  promised,  the  last  threat  of 
haughty  Bourbons  or  Ilapsburgs  whispered,  and  the  gorgeous 
assembly  of  electioneering  princes  and  embassadors  melted 
away  along  the  dusky  streets  of  Rome. 

Tlie  cardinals  were  now  shut  up  in  close  confinement.^) 
All  the  windows  and  doors  of  the  lower  floors  of  the  Yatican 
had  been  walled  up  except  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  prin- 
cipal staircase,  which  was  secured  by  bolts  and  bars.  By  the 
side  of  this  entrance  were  placed  turning-boxes  like  those  used 
in  convents  or  nunneries,  through  which  alone  the  imprisoned 
cardinals  were  allowed  to  hold  any  intercourse  with  the  outer 
world ;  while  whatever  passed  through  these  was  carefully  in- 
spected by  officers  both  within  and  without.  Guards  of  sol- 
diers were  posted  around  the  palace  to  insure  the  isolation  of 
the  holy  prisoners,  and  the  anathema  of  the  Church  was  de- 
nounced against  any  cardinal  or  conclavist  who  should  reveal 
the  secrets  of  the  inspired  assembly.     To  insure  a  speedy  de- 

(■)  The  physician  of  the  Cardiual  de'  Medici  Tvas  admitted  to  atteud  him. 
(-)  Mosbeim,  ii.,  p.  347. 


THE  PAPAL   ELECTORS.  69 

cision,  liowever,  a  soniewliat  carnal  device  had  been  lighted 
upon.  It  was  ordered  that  if  after  three  days  the  cardinals 
should  have  made  no  choice,  they  should  each  be  coniined  to 
a  single  dish  at  every  meal ;  if  they  remained  obstinate  for 
five  days  longer,  they  must  be  restricted  in  their  diet  to  bread, 
wine,  and  water  alone  as  long  as  the  session  continued. 

All  the  cumbrous  forms  employed  at  a  papal  election  have 
been  gradually  introduced  by  tlie  Popes  themselves,  and  were 
designed  to  strengthen  and  complete  the  supremacy  of  the 
Chief  Pontiff .(')  In  the  early  ages  of  the  Church,  the  Popes 
were  elected  by  the  assembled  clergy  and  people  of  Rome, 
and  the  sacred  privilege  was  cherished  by  the  turbulent  Ro- 
mans as  their  most  valued  possession.  But  the  pontiffs,  as 
they  advanced  in  earthly  power  and  grandeur,  began  to  dis- 
dain or  dread  the  tumultuous  throng  from  whence  they  de- 
rived their  holy  office ;  and  Nicholas  II.,  in  1059,  under  the 
guidance  of  the  haughty  Ilildebrand,  snatched  the  election  of 
the  Popes  from  the  people,  and  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  the 
cardinals  alone.  None  but  the  college  of  cardinals  from  that 
time  have  had  any  vote  in  the  choice.  But  France,  Austria, 
and  Spain  are  each  allowed  to  veto  the  election  of  some  single 
cardinal.  Custom,  too,  has  sanctioned  that  none  but  a  cardi- 
nal shall  be  chosen,  and  the  bull  of  iS  icholas  II.  promises  or 
suggests  that  the  successful  candidate  shall  come  from  the 
bosom  of  the  Roman  prelacy.Q  Pope  Alexander  III.  added 
the  provision  that  a  vote  of  two-thirds  of  the  college  should 
be  necessary  to  a  choice ;  while  Gregory  X.,  elected  in  1271, 
called  together  a  General  Council  at  Lyons  (1274),  where 
many  abuses  of  the  past  were  reformed,  and  the  ceremonial 
of  election  arranged  nearly  in  the  form  in  which  it  now  exists. 
Each  cardinal  has  a  single  vote,  and  his  right  of  suffrage  can 
scarcely  be  taken  from  him  even  by  tlie  Pope  himself.  It  is 
looked  upon  as  a  privilege  almost  immutable.  Cardinals  cov- 
ered with  crimes  and  shut  up  in  St.  Angelo  have  been  taken 

(')  See  Stendhal,  Promeuades  dans  Rome,  for  a  late  conclave,  pp.  176, 177. 
C)  Baiouins,  Ann.  Ecc,  ii.,  p.  314:  "De  ipsius  Ecclesise  gremio."     The 
language  is  very  cautious. 


60  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

from  tlieir  j)rison  to  the  sacred  college,  and  then,  when  thej 
had  voted,  were  sent  back  to  their  dungeon.  Cardinals  con- 
victed of  poisoning  or  attempts  to  murder  have  regained,  on 
the  death  of  a  Pope,  their  official  privilege  of  aiding  in  the 
election  of  a  successor  to  St.  Peter.  But  Cardinal  Eohan  was 
deofraded  from  all  his  offices  for  his  share  in  the  affair  of  the 
Diamond  Necklace;  and  during  the  French  Revolution  two 
cardinals  renounced  their  sacred  dignity,  and  were  held  to 
have  lost  even  their  right  of  voting.  Yet  the  cardinals,  the 
princes  of  the  Roman  Clim-ch,  form  an  immutable  hierarchy, 
independent,  in  some  respects,  of  the  Chief  Pontiff  himself. 
From  their  body  the  new  Pope  must  be  chosen ;  to  them,  on 
the  death  of  a  Pope,  falls  the  selection  of  his  successor ;  and 
their  elevated  position  as  the  creators  of  the  vicegerent  of 
Heaven  would  seem  naturally  to  require  that  they  should  dis- 
play in  the  highest  degree  the  purest  traits  of  Christian  virtue. 
In  the  sacred  college  that  assembled  on  the  death  of  Julius 
n.  were  gathered  a  band  of  men  corrupted  by  power,  avari- 
cious, venal,  unscrupulous,  and  capable  of  every  crime.  One 
had  been  engaged  in  the  plot  for  the  assassination  of  Lorenzo 
de'  Medici.  One  was  a  poisoner  and  a  murderer  of  old  stand- 
ing. Most  of  them  had  been  educated  in  the  horrible  school 
of  the  Borgias.(')  Scarcely  one  that  was  not  a  shame  and  hor- 
ror to  the  eyes  of  pious  men  ;  scarcely  one  that  was  not  ready 
with  the  dagger  and  the  bowl.  Ambitious  of  power,  eager 
for  the  plunder  of  the  Church,  the  conclave  resolved  to  choose 
a  Pope  who  would  give  them  little  trouble,  whom  they  could 
mold  and  intimidate,  and  from  whom  they  could  extract  at 
will  the  largest  revenues  and  the  richest  benefices.(")  Such  a 
man  seemed  the  Cardinal  de'  Medici,  the  second  son  of  Lo- 
renzo the  Magnificent,  of  Florence.  Lie  was  the  most  polish- 
ed and  elegant  prelate  of  his  time.  His  disposition  was  mild 
and  even,  his  person  graceful  and  imposing,  his  generosity 
unbounded,  and  his  love  for  letters  and  his  familiarity  with 

(')  Most  of  them  were  afterward  eugaged  in  a  plot  to  poison  Leo.  X. 
(^)  It  was  said  iu  the  conclave  that  the  Cardinal  de'  Medici  could  not 
live  a  mouth. 


GIOVANNI  DE'  MEDICI.  61 

literary  men  had  thrown  around  him  an  intellectual  charm 
which  was  felt  even  by  the  coarsest  of  his  contemporaries. 
But,  above  all,  it  was  believed  in  the  sacred  college  that  his 
nature  was  so  soft  and  complying  that  he  would  readily  yield 
up  the  government  of  the  Church  to  the  bolder  spirits  around 
him.  Yet  the  contest  within  the  walls  of  the  Vatican  lasted 
for  seven  days,(')  during  all  which  time  the  bland  Cardinal 
de'  Medici,  with  the  usual  policy  of  his  race,  was  engaged  in 
secretly  or  openly  promoting  his  own  election.  He  softened 
and  subdued  his  enemies  by  flatteries  and  promises ;  he  was 
seen  talking  in  a  friendly  and  confidential  way  with  Cardinal 
San  Giorgio,  the  assassin  of  his  uncle ;  he  won  Soderini,  the 
persecutor  of  his  race,  by  ample  expectations ;  all  the  cardinals 
connected  with  royal  families  were  especially  favorable  to  the 
descendant  of  a  line  of  princely  money-lenders ;  the  holy  col- 
lege yielded  to  the  claim  of  the  graceful  Medici,  and  a  major- 
ity of  ballots  inscribed  with  his  name  were  found  in  the  sacred 
chalice.  Then  a  window  in  the  Vatican  was  broken  open,  and 
Leo  X.  proclaimed  Pope  to  the  assembled  people  of  Rome. 
He  was  placed  in  the  pontifical  chair  and  borne  to  St.  Peter's, 
followed  by  the  rejoicing  populace,  the  excited  clergy,  the 
holy  conclave;  and  as  the  procession  passed  on  its  way  can- 
non were  discharged,  the  populace  applauded,  and  the  long 
train  of  ecclesiastics,  transported  by  a  sudden  fervor,  broke 
out  into  a  solemn  strain  of  praise  and  glory  to  the  Most  High. 
Giovanni  de'  Medici  was  the  descendant  of  that  great  mer- 
cantile family  at  Florence  which  had  astonished  Europe  by  its 
commercial  grandeur  and  elegant  taste,  and  whose  founders 
had  learned  complaisance  and  democracy  in  the  tranquil  pur- 
suits of  trade.(°)  Their  fortunes  had  been  built  upon  indus- 
try, probity,  politeness,  and  a  careful  attention  to  business. 
They  had  long  practiced  the  virtues  of  honor  and  good  faith 
when  their  feudal  neio-hbors  had  been  distinguished  onlv  bv 
utter  insincerity.  The  Medici  had  increased  their  wealth 
from  father  to  son  until  they  became  the  richest  bankers  in 

(')  The  votes  were  taken  twice  a  clay,  aud  the  ballots  hurued.     Stend- 
hal, p.  177. 

O  Vita  Leouis  Decimi,  a  Paulo  Jovio,  i.     Roscoe,  Leo  X. 


62  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

Europe,  and  saw  tlie  miglitiest  kings,  and  a  throng  of  princes, 
priests,  and  warriors,  suppliants  at  their  counters  for  loans  and 
benefits,  which  sometimes  they  never  intended  to  repay.  At 
lenffth  Lorenzo,  the  father  of  Leo  X.,  retired  from  business  to 
give  himself  to  schemes  of  ambition,  and  to  guide  the  affairs 
of  Italy.  His  immense  wealth,  pleasing  manners,  prudence, 
and  ffood  sense  made  him  the  most  eminent  of  all  the  Ital- 
ians :  nnhappily  Lorenzo  sunk  from  the  dignity  of  an  honest 
trader  to  share  in  the  ambitious  diplomacy  of  his  age,  and  lost 
his  virtue  in  his  effort  to  become  great.  Giovanni  was  his  fa- 
vorite son — the  only  one  that  had  any  ability ;  and  Lorenzo 
had  resolved,  almost  from  his  birth,  that  he  should  wear  the 
triple  crown. 

At  seven  years  of  age  Giovanni  was  made  an  abbot.  His 
childish  head  was  shaven  with  the  monkish  tonsure.  He  was 
addressed  as  Messire,  was  saluted  with  reverence  as  one  of  the 
eminent  dignitaries  of  the  Church,  and  was  supposed  to  con- 
trol the  spiritual  concerns  of  various  rich  benefices.  The 
child-abbot  soon  showed  an  excellent  intellect,  and,  under  the 
care  of  Politian,  became  learned  in  the  rising  literature  of  the 
day.  All  that  the  immense  wealth  and  influence  of  his  father 
could  give  him  lay  at  his  command.  He  was  educated  in  the 
magnilicent  palace  of  the  Medici  which  Cosmo  had  complain- 
ed was  too  laro;e  for  so  small  a  familv,  shared  in  those  lavish 
entertainments  of  which  Lorenzo  was  so  fond,  was  familiar 
with  the  wits,  the  poets,  the  painters  of  that  gifted  age,  and 
learned  the  graceful  skepticism  that  was  fashionable  at  his 
father's  court.  When  Giovanni  was  thirteen, (')  Lorenzo  re- 
solved to  raise  him  to  the  highest  dignity  in  the  Church  be- 
low that  of  the  Supreme  Pontiff.  He  begged  the  Pope,  with 
prayers  that  seem  now  strangely  humiliating,  to  make  his  son 
a  cardinal.  He  enlisted  in  his  favor  all  whom  he  could  influ- 
ence at  the  papal  court.  "  It  will  raise  me  from  death  to  life," 
lie  cried,  when  the  Pope  seemed  to  hesitate.  The  boon  was 
at  last  obtained,  and  the  boy  of  fourteen,  the  child  of  wealth 
and  luxurious  ease,  with  no  effort  of  his  own,  became  one  of 

(')  "  Vix  turn  tertiumdecimum  excedentem  annum."     P.  Jovius,  p.  15. 


LUTHER'S  CHILDHOOD.  63 

tlie  chief  priests  of  Christendom.  The  Pope,  however,  with 
some  show  of  propriety,  required  that  the  investiture  should 
not  take  j)lace  in  three  years,  during  wliich  time  the  young 
Medici  was  to  give  his  attention  to  study,  Pohtian  still  di- 
rected his  studies.  Giovanni  was  grave,  graceful,  formal,  am- 
bitious; and  at  seventeen,  in  the  year  1492,  so  fatal  to  the 
glory  of  his  family,  he  took  his  place  in  the  sacred  college  at 
Home,  and  was  received  in  the  Holy  City  with  a  general  re- 
spect that  seemed  not  unworthy  of  its  future  master. 

Meanwhile,  far  away  in  a  little  hamlet  of  Germany,  a  beg- 
. gar-child  was  singing  mendicant  songs  from  door  to  door,  and 
living  upon  the  insufficient  alms  which  he  won  from  the  com- 
passion of  the  charitable.  It  was  a  delicate  and  feeble  boy,  to 
whom  childhood  offered  no  joys,  whose  youth  was  a  perpetual 
woe.  Luther  was  a  peasant's  son,  and  all  his  ancestors  had 
been  peasants.(')  His  father  was  a  miner  in  the  heart  of  the 
Thuringian  forest.  The  manners  of  the  peasants  were  harsh 
and  cruel :  Luther's  parents'  drove  him  out  to  beg ;  his  moth- 
er sometimes  scourged  him  till  the  blood  came  for  a  trivial 
offense ;  his  father  punished  him  so  severely  and  so  often  that 
the  child  fled  from  his  presence  in  terror ;  and  his  little  voice, 
as  he  chanted  his  mendicant  hymns,  must  often  have  been 
drowned  in  tears.  Yet  so  sweet  and  tender  was  the  heart  of 
the  great  reformer  that  he  ever  retained  the  most  sincere  love 
and  reverence  for  the  parents  whom  poverty  and  their  own 
sufferings  had  made  so  severe.  He  was  ever  a  fond  and  duti- 
ful son.  He  wept  bitterly,  like  Mohammed,  over  his  mother's 
grave.  He  was  proud  to  relate  that  his  father  won  a  hard 
and  scanty  living  in  the  mines  of  Mansfeld,  and  tliat  his 
mother  carried  wood  from  the  forest  on  her  back  to  t]ieir 
peasant  home;  and  when  he  came  to  stand  before  Europe  the 
adversary  of  the  elegant  Leo,  and  the  companion  of  kings  and 
princes,  he  M^as  never  weary  of  modestly  boasting  that  he  was 
a  peasant's  son.Q 

(')  Tischreden,  p.  581.     Eauke,  Reformation  in  Germany,  i.,  p.  136. 
(^)  Michelet,  M^moires  cle  Luther,  i.     The  best  account  of  Luther  is  that 
of  Walch,  Nachricht  von  D.  Martin  Luther,  vol.  xxiv.,  Siiunntlicho  Werke. 


64  LEO  AND  LVTHER. 

Luther  was  eia'lit  vears  youno-er  than  the  Cardinal  de'  Me- 
dici.     lie  beirsed  liis  education  at  Eisenach,  a  small  German 
town,  until  he  was  thirteen,  and  was  then  maintained  by  a 
charitable  relative.     Afterward  his  father,  who  had  thriven 
by  industry  and  toil,  was  enabled  to  send  his  son  to  the  uni- 
versity at  Erfurth,  and  hoped  to  make  him  a  lawyer.(')     But 
now  that  mighty  intellect,  which  was  destined  to  spread  its 
banyan -like  branches  over  Europe  and  mankind,  began  to 
flourish  with  native  vigor.     Luthers  rare  versatility  embraced 
every  form  of  mental  accomplishment.     He  loved  music  with 
intense  devotion ;  his  sensitive  frame  responded  to  the  slight- 
est touch  of  instrumental  sounds;  he  believed  that  demons 
fled  at  the  sound  of  his  flute ;  and  when  he  had  fallen  into 
one  of  his  peculiar  trances  in  his  cell,  his  fellow-monks  knew 
that  music  was  the  surest  medicament  to  bring  him  back  to 
consciousness  and  activity. f)     He  was  a  poet,  and  his  relig- 
ious impulses  often  expressed  themselves  in  sacred  songs — 
rude,  bold,  and  powerful — that  have  formed  the  germ  and 
model  of  those  of  many  lands.     His  love  for  pure  literature 
was  in  no  degree  inferior  to  that  of  his  elegant  rival,  Leo  X. ; 
he  studied  day  and  night  the  few  works  of  classic  or  mediae- 
val writers  that  were  then  accessible  to  the  humble  scholar  or 
the  penniless  monk ;  and  his  craving  mind  was  never  sated  in 
its  ceaseless  appetite  for  knowledge.     Yet  his  disposition  was 
never  saturnine  or  desponding  ;  as  a  student  he  was  often 
gay,  joyous,  and  fond  of  cheerful  company ;  his  tuneful  voice 
was  no  doubt  often  heard  at  convivial  meetings  at  Erfurth ; 
his  broad  and  ready  wit  must  have  kept  many  a  table  in  a 
roar;  and  his  loving  heart  seems  to  have  gathered  around 
him  many  friends.     So  varied  were  his  tastes,  so  vigorous  his 
powers,  that,  in  whatever  path  his  intellect  had  been  directed, 
he  must  have  risen  high  above  his  fellow-men.     He  might 
have  shone  as  a  lawyer  and  a  famous  statesman;  he  might 
have  been  the  Homer  of  Germany,  or  the  autlior  of  a  new 
Nibelungenlied ;    his   classic    taste   miglit   easily   have  been 


(')  Andin,  Histoire  de  Martiu  Luther,  i.     Eanke,  Keforiuatiou,  i.,  p.  318. 
(')  Raiike,i.,p.  321. 


LUTHER  A  MONK.  65 

turned  to  the  revival  of  letters ;  his  musical  powers  have  pro- 
duced an  earlier  Mozart ;  or  his  rare  and  boundless  originality 
have  been  expended  in  satiric  or  tragic  pictures  of  that  world 
around  him  of  whose  folly  and  dullness  he  had  so  clear  a  con- 
ception. 

One  day  Luther  was  walking  through  the  fields  with  one  of 
his  young  companions  from  his  father's  home  in  the  forest  to 
Erfurth.(')  It  was  July,  and  suddenly  a  fierce  storm  gather- 
ed over  the  bright  sky ;  the  mountains  around  were  hidden  in 
gloom ;  the  lightning  leaped  from  cloud  to  cloud  ;  all  nature 
trembled ;  when  a  sharp  bolt  from  heaven  struck  Luther's 
companion  dead  at  his  side,  and  left  him  for  a  time  senseless 
beside  him.  He  wandered  home  on  his  solitary  way,  oppress- 
ed with  an  intolerable  dread ;  he  believed  that  he  had  heard 
the  voice  of  Heaven  calling  him  to  repent ;  he  vowed  that  he 
would  give  his  whole  future  life  to  asceticism  and  monastic 
gloom.  The  next  evening,  with  the  impulsive  inconstancy  of 
youth,  he  passed  with  his  young  companions  in  the  pleasures 
of  music,  wine,  and  song,  anxious  perhaps  to  try  if  he  could 
drown  in  the  joys  of  the  world  the  pains  of  a  wounded  spirit. 
But  the  next  day  he  hastened  to  the  convent  of  the  Augus- 
tines  at  Erfurth,  and  took  the  irrevocable  vow.(°)  He  re- 
solved by  the  practice  of  the  severest  austerity  to  escape  the 
pains  of  purgatory.  He  was  the  most  faithful  of  ascetics. 
All  his  great  powers,  all  the  joyousness  of  his  youthful  spir- 
it, all  the  abundant  growth  of  his  fertile  intellect,  were  shut 
up  in  a  narrow  cell  and  wasted  in  the  closest  observance  of 
monkish  rites.  And  the  result  was  sufficiently  appalling. 
He  was  weighed  down  by  an  ever-increasing  consciousness 
of  sin.  Despair  and  death  seemed  his  only  portion.  His  life 
was  agony,  and  sometimes  he  would  sink  down  in  his  cell  in  a 
deep  swoon,  from  which  he  could  only  be  aroused  by  the  gen- 
tle touch  of  a  stringed  instrument.(^) 

(')  Ranke,  i.,  p.  318,  somewhat  varies  the  comniou  story.  Sec  Michelet, 
i.,  p.  5. 

(")  Ranke,  i.,  p.  319.  Walch,  xxiv.,  p.  76,  gives  the  various  accounts  of 
Luther's  couversion. 

C)  Ranke,  i.,  p.  321.     Michelet,  i.,  p.  10. 

5 


66  LEO  AND  LUTHEB. 

AVTiIle  Lutlier  was  thus  passing  through  the  rude  ordeal  of 
his  painful  youth,  his  companion  spirit,  the  elegant  Cardinal 
de'  Medici,  had  glided  gracefully  onward  in  a  career  of  unsul- 
lied prosperity.(')  His  sins  had  never  given  liini  any  trouble. 
His  conscience  was  soothed  and  satislied  by  the  united  ap- 
plause of  all  his  associates.  The  learned  Politian,  a  polished 
pagan,  wrote  in  the  most  graceful  periods  of  his  piety  and  de- 
corum. His  father,  Lorenzo,  had  never  been  weary  of  spread- 
ing the  report  of  his  early  fitness  for  the  highest  station  in  the 
Church.  He  was  looked  upon  as  an  especial  ornament  to  the 
sacred  college  of  cardinals ;  and  the  cardinal  himself  seems 
never  to  have  doubted  his  own  piety,  or  to  have  shrunk  from 
the  responsibility  of  holding  in  his  well-trained  hands  the  des- 
tiny of  the  Christian  world.  For  him  purgatory  had  no  ter- 
rors ;  the  future  world  was  a  fair  and  faint  mirage  over  which 
he  aspired  to  spread  his  sceptre  in  order  to  rebuild  St.  Peter's 
or  to  immortalize  his  reign ;  but  beyond  that  he  seems  scarce- 
ly to  have  looked  within  its  veil.  That  future  upon  which 
Luther  gazed  with  wild,  inquiring  eyes,  for  Leo  seemed  scarce- 
ly to  exist.  He  was  more  anxious  to  know,  with  Cicero,  what 
men  would  be  saying  of  him  six  hundred  years  from  now ;  or 
more  engaged  in  speculating  upon  his  own  prospect  of  filling 
with  grace  and  dignity  the  chair  of  St.  Peter. 

At  eighteen  the  young  cardinal  seems  almost  to  have  at- 
tained the  maturity  of  his  physical  and  mental  powers.  He 
was  tall,  handsome,  graceful,  intellectual.  His  complexion 
was  fair  and  florid,  his  countenance  cheerful  and  benignant. 
He  was  famed  for  the  magnificence  of  his  entertainments,  his 
love  of  disphw,  his  unbounded  extravagance,  his  open  gener- 
osity. He  wasted  his  father's  wealth,  as  afterward  his  own, 
in  feasts,  processions,  and  deeds  of  real  benevolence.  He  was 
the.  spendthrift  son  of  an  opulent  parent ;  he  became  the 
wasteful  master  of  the  resources  of  the  Church.  Like  Luther, 
he  was  passionately  fond  of  music.  He  played  and  sung  him- 
self ;  he  studied  his  art  with  care ;  and  his  leisure  hours  were 
seldom  without  musical  employment.     Like  Luther,  too,  he 

(')  P.  Jovius,  p.  15. 


LEO  IN  MISFORTUNE.  67 

loved  letters  witli  a  strange  and  surpassing  regard.  Heading 
was  his  chief  pleasure,  and  he  seldom  sat  down  to  table  with- 
out having  some  poem  or  history  before  him,  or  without 
lengthening  his  repast  by  reading  aloud  fine  passages  to  his 
literary  friends.  He  had  some  imperfect  sense  of  the  real 
power  of  the  intellect,  and  the  man  of  letters  was  always  to 
Leo  a  kind  of  deity  whom  he  was  glad  to  worship  or  to  ap- 
proach. But  his  own  productions  are  never  above  medioc- 
rity, and  the  real  genius  that  glowed  in  the  breast  of  Luther 
was  an  inscrutable  mystery  to  the  ambitious  Pope. 

Calamity  in  a  magnificent  form  at  length  came  even  to  the 
prosperous  cardinal.  In  1492  his  father  Lorenzo  died,  and 
two  years  afterward  the  Medici  were  driven  out  of  Florence. 
Savonarola,(')  the  Luther  of  Italy,  the  gifted  monk  whose 
fierce  eloquence  had  transformed  the  skeptical  Florentines 
from  pagan  indifference  to  puritanic  austerity,(°)  who  had 
preached  freedom  and  democracy,  who  had  inveighed  against 
the  vices  of  the  clergy  and  the  despotism  of  Rome,  and  whose 
fatal  and  unmerited  doom  must  have  been  ever  before  the 
mind  of  his  German  successor,  became  for  a  time  the  master 
of  his  country.  Florence  was  once  more  a  republic,  the  cen- 
tre of  religious  reform.  The  theatres  were  closed,  the  spec- 
tacles deserted,  and  the  churches  were  filled  with  immense 
throngs  of  citizens  who  were  never  weary  of  listening  to  the 
stern  rebukes  of  the  inspired  monk.  But  in  1494  Savonaro- 
la fell  before  the  intrifijues  of  his  enemv,  Alexander  YL,  the 
Borgia ;  he  was  hanged,  his  body  burned,  and  his  ashes  cast 
into  the  Arno.(')  The  Church  triumphed  in  the  destruction 
of  its  saintly  victim;  but  the  Medici  were  exiles  from  their 
native  city  for  eighteen  years,  and  were  only  restored  in  1512, 
by  the  favor  of  Julius  II.  and  the  arms  of  the  Spaniards. 
During  this  long  period  of  disaster  the  cardinal  lived  in 
great  magnificence,  and  wasted  much  of  his  fortune.  Pover- 
ty even  threatened  him  who  had  never  known  any  thing  but 

(')  Jovius  admits  the  eloquence  of  Savonarola. 

{^)  "Ut  nihil  sine  ejus  viri  consilio  recte  geii  jiosse  videretnr."     P.  Jo- 
vius, p.  21. 

(')  "  lu  area  curite  foedissinio  snpplicio  concreuiatus."     P.  Jovins,  p.  24. 


68  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

boundless  \vealtli.  In  the  fearfnl  reign  at  Rome  of  Alexan- 
der VI.  and  Caesar  Borgia,  he  Avandered  over  Europe,  visited 
Maximilian  in  Germany,  and  his  son  Philip  in  the  Low  Conn- 
tries  ;  passed  over  France,  paused  a  while  at  Marseilles,  and 
then  returned  to  Ital}'.(')  Here,  at  the  town  of  Savona,  met 
at  table  three  exiles,  each  of  whom  was  destined  to  wear  the 
papal  crown ;  Rovere,  afterward  Julius  II. ;  the  Cardinal  de' 
Medici,  Leo  X. ;  and  Giuliano  de'  Medici,  afterward  Clement 
VII.  When  Julius  was  made  Pope,  the  Cardinal  de'  Medici 
returned  to  Rome,  and  became  the  chosen  adviser  of  that 
pontiff.  He  shared  in  the  various  unsuccessful  attempts  of 
his  family  to  regain  their  control  over  Florence,  was  often  in 
command  of  the  papal  armies,  and  shone  in  the  camp  as 
well  as  the  court ;  saw  in  1512  the  restoration  of  the  Medici 
to  Florence;  and  the  next  year,  on  the  death  of  his  friend 
Julius  II.,  was  enthroned  as  Pope  at  Rome — the  magnilicent 
Leo  X. 

In  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Julius,  Luther  visited  Rome. 
The  poor  monk,  worn  with  penances  and  mental  toil,  was  sent 
upon  some  business  connected  with  his  convent  to  the  papal 
court.(°)  He  crossed  the  Alps  full  of  faith  and  stirred  by  a 
strong  excitement.  He  was  about  to  enter  that  classic  land 
with  whose  poets  and  historians  he  had  long  been  familiar: 
he  was  to  tread  the  sacred  soil  of  Virgil,  Cicero,  and  Livy. 
But,  more  than  this,  he  saw  before  him,  rising  in  dim  majesty, 
the  Holy  City  of  that  Church  from  whose  faith  he  had  never 
yet  ventured  to  depart,  whose  supreme  head  was  still  to  him 
almost  the  representative  of  Deity,  and  whose  princes  and 
dignitaries  he  had  ever  invested  with  an  apostolic  purity  and 
grace.  Rome,  hallowed  by  the  sufferings  of  the  martyrs,  till- 
ed with  relics,  and  redolent  with  the  piety  of  ages,  the  untu- 
tored monk  still  supposed  a  scene  of  heavenly  rest.  "  Hail, 
holy  Rome !"  he  exclaimed,  as  its  distant  towers  first  met  his 
eyes.  His  poetic  dream  was  soon  dispelled.  Scarcely  had  he 
entered  Italy  when  he  M'as  shocked  and  terrified  by  the  luxu- 
ry and  license  of  the  convents,  and  the  open  depravity  of  the 

(')  P.  Jovius,  p.  27.  (")  Walch,  xxiv.,  \^.  102  et  seq. 


LEO  X.  AS  POPE.  69 

priesthood.  He  fell  sick  with  sorrow  and  shame.  He  com- 
plained that  the  very  air  of  Italy  seemed  deadly  and  pestilen- 
tial. But  he  wandered  on,  feeble  and  sad,  nntil  he  reached 
the  Holy  City,  and  there,  amidst  the  mockery  of  his  fellow- 
monks  and  the  blasphemies  of  the  impious  clergy,  perfonned 
with  honest  superstition  the  minute  ceremonial  of  the  Church. 
Of  all  the  pilgrims  to  that  desecrated  shrine  none  was  so  de- 
vout as  Luther.  He  was  determined,  he  said,  to  escape  the 
pains  of  purgatory,  and  win  a  plenary  indulgence :  he  dragged 
his  frail  form  on  his  knees  up  the  painful  ascent  of  the  Holy 
Stairs,  while  ever  in  his  ears  resounded  the  cry,  "  The  just 
shall  live  by  faith."  He  heard  with  horror  that  the  head 
of  the  Church  was  a  monster  stained  with  vice;  that  the 
cardinals  were  worse  than  their  master;  the  priests,  mock- 
ing unbelievers ;  and  fled,  heart-broken,  back  to  his  German 
cell. 

On  the  11th  of  April,  1513,  Leo  X.  opened  his  splendid 
reign  by  the  usual  procession  to  the  Lateran,  but  the  magnifi- 
cence of  his  pageant  was  such  as  had  never  been  seen  at  Home 
since  the  fall  of  the  Western  Empire.  It  was  the  most  im- 
posing and  the  last  of  the  triumphs  of  the  undivided  Church. 
The  Supreme  Pontiff,  clothed  in  rich  robes  glittering  with 
rubies  and  diamonds,  crowned  with  a  tiara  of  precious  stones 
of  priceless  value,  and  dazzling  all  eyes  by  the  lustre  of  his 
decorations,  rode  on  an  Arab  steed  at  the  head  of  an  assem- 
bled throng  of  cardinals,  embassadors,  and  princes.  The  cler- 
gy, the  people  of  Rome,  and  a  long  array  of  soldiers  in  shin- 
ing armor,  followed  in  his  train.  Before  him,  far  away,  the 
streets  were  spread  with  rich  tapestry,  spanned  by  numerous 
triumphal  arches  of  rare  beauty,  and  adorned  on  every  side 
by  countless  statues  and  works  of  art.  Young  girls  and  chil- 
dren, clothed  in  white,  cast  flowers  or  palms  before  him  as  he 
passed.  A  general  joy  seemed  to  fill  the  Holy  City ;  the  sa- 
cred rites  were  performed  at  the  Lateran  with  a  just  deco- 
rum ;  and  in  the  evening  of  the  auspicious  day  Leo  entertain- 
ed his  friends  at  a  banquet  in  the  Vatican,  whose  luxury  and 
extravagance  are  said  to  have  rivaled  the  pagan  splendors  of 
Apicius  or  LucuUus. 


70  LEO  AND  LVTEEE. 

And  now  began  the  Golden  Age  of  Leo  X.(')  The  descend- 
ant of  the  Medici  ruled  over  an  undivided  Christendom.  But 
lately  his  spiritual  empire  had  been  enlarged  by  the  discov- 
eries of  Columbus  and  Gama,  and  the  conquests  of  the  Span- 
iards and  Portuguese.  India  and  America  lay  at  the  feet  of 
the  new  Pope.  In  Europe  his  authority  was  greater  than 
that  of  any  of  his  predecessors.  The  Emperor  of  Germany, 
the  kings  of  England,  France,  and  Portugal,  became  at  length 
his  obedient  vassals.  Henry,  Charles,  and  Francis  looked  to 
the  accomplished  Leo  for  counsel  and  example,  and  paid  sin- 
cere deference  to  the  court  of  Pome.  He  was  the  master 
spirit  of  the  politics  of  his  age ;  and  the  three  brilliant  young 
monarchs,  whose  talents  seemed  only  directed  to  the  ruin  of 
Europe  and  of  mankind,  were  held  in  check  by  the  careful 
policy  of  the  acute  Italian.  With  the  clergy  Leo  was  still 
more  successful.  He  was  the  idol  of  the  priests  and  bishops 
of  the  Continent  and  of  England.  In  Germany,  his  name 
stood  high  as  a  man  of  probity  and  dignity ;  Luther  avowed 
his  respect  for  the  pontiff's  character ;  in  England,  "Wolsey  led 
the  Church  to  his  support.  A  common  delusion  seems  to 
have  prevailed  that  Leo  was  either  sincerely  pious  or  singu- 
larly discreet.  The  people,  too,  so  far  as  they  were  familiar 
with  the  pontiff's  name,  repeated  it  with  respect.  Compared 
with  the  passionate,  licentious  Julius,  or  the  monster  Alexan- 
der, he  seemed  of  saintly  purity ;  while  the  scholars  of  every 
land  united  in  spreading  the  fame  of  that  benevolent  poten- 
tate whose  bounty  had  been  felt  by  the  humblest  of  their  or- 
der, as  well  as  the  most  renowned. 

The  age  of  Leo  X.  was  golden  with  the  glories  of  art.Q 
He  was  the  most  bountiful  and  unwearied  friend  of  intellect 
the  world  has  ever  seen.  His  most  sincere  impulse  was  the 
homage  he  paid  to  every  form  of  genius.  Ambitious  stu- 
dents and  impoverished  scholars  hastened  to  Pome  with  their 
imperfect  poems  and  half-finished  treatises,  submitted  them  to 
the  kindly  critic,  were  received  with  praise  and  just  congratu- 

(*)  Jovius:  "Anream  setatem  post  multa  stecula  coudidisse." 
0)  Jovius,  p.  109. 


THE  GOLDEN  AGE  OF  LEO.  71 

lation,  and  never  failed  to  win  a  rich  benefice  or  a  high  posi- 
tion at  the  papal  court.  Leo  read  with  fond  and  friendly  at- 
tention the  first  volume  of  Jovius's  history,  pronounced  him 
a  new  Livy,  and  covered  him  with  honors  and  emoluments. 
He  made  the  elegant  style  of  Bembo  the  source  of  his  w^ealth 
and  greatness.  He  made  the  learned  Sadoleto  a  bishop ;  he 
cultivated  the  genius  of  the  graceful  Yida.  For  Greek  and 
Latin  scholars  his  kindness  was  unwearied;  he  aided  Aldus 
by  a  liberal  patent,  and  sought  eagerly  for  rare  manuscripts 
of  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics.  His  hours  of  leisure  were 
often  passed  in  hearing  some  new  poem  or  correcting  some 
unpublished  manuscript ;  his  happiest  days  were  those  he  was 
sometimes  enabled  to  spend  amidst  a  throng  of  his  friendly 
authors.  For  science  he  was  no  less  zealous,  and  mathema- 
ticians, astronomers,  geograpliers,  and  discoverers  were  all 
equally  sure  of  a  favorable  reception  at  Rome.  Leo  was  al- 
ways eager  to  hear  of  the  strange  adventures  of  the  Spanish 
and  Portuguese  in  the  unknown  lands,  to  converse  with  the 
brave  Tristan  Cunha,  or  to  listen  to  Pigafetta's  unpolished 
narrative  of  Magellan's  wonderful  voyage. 

Thus  for  eight  years  Pome  echoed  to  the  strains  of  count- 
less rival  or  friendly  bards  who  sung  to  the  ever-kindly  ear  of 
the  attentive  pontiff ;  and  a  vast  number  of  poems  in  Latin  or 
Italian  rose  to  renown,  were  quoted,  admired,  praised  as  not 
unworthy  of  Virgil  or  Catullus,  and  then  sunk  forever  into 
neglect.  Of  all  the  poets  of  this  fertile  age,  scarcely  one  sur- 
vives.(')  The  historians  have  been  more  fortunate.  Machia- 
velli,  Guicciardini,  perhaps  Jovius,  are  still  remembered  among 
the  masters  of  the  art.  Castiglione  is  yet  spoken  of  as  a 
purer  Chesterfield ;  the  chaste  and  gifted  Yittoria  Colonna 
still  lives  as  one  of  the  jewels  of  her  sex.  But  it  is  to  its 
painters  rather  than  its  poets  tliat  this  illustrious  epoch  owes 
its  immortality.  It  is  to  Paftaello  that  Leo  X.  is  indebted 
for  many  a  lovely  reminiscence  that  aids  in  rescuing  his  glory 
from  oblivion.  The  traveler  who  wanders  to  Pome  is  chiefly 
reminded  of  Leo  by  the  graceful  flattery  with  which  the  first 

(')  Roscoe,  Leo  X. 


72  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

of  painters  has  interwoven  the  life  of  his  friend  and  master 
with  his  own  finest  works.  lie  sees  the  portrait  and  exact 
features  of  Leo  X.  in  the  famous  picture  of  Attila ;  discovers 
an  allusion  to  his  life  in  the  Liberation  of  St.  Peter ;  or  re- 
members that  it  was  to  the  taste  and  profuse  liberality  of  the 
pontiff  that  we  owe  most  of  those  rare  frescoes  in  the  Vatican 
with  which  Raffaello  crowned  his  art. 

All  through  the  brief  period  of  scarcely  seven  years,  so 
wonderful  and  varied  were  the  labors  of  Raffaello,  so  constant 
the  demands  of  the  friendly  but  injudicious  Pope,  that  we 
might  well  suppose  the  two  friends  to  have  been  incessantly 
occupied  in  their  effort  to  revive  and  recreate  the  ancient 
glory  of  Rome.  To  Raffaello  these  years  were  spent  in  fatal 
toil.  His  fancy,  his  genius,  were  never  suffered  to  rest.(') 
Gentle,  loving,  easily  touched,  and  fired  by  artistic  ambition, 
soft  and  luxurious  in  his  manners,  unrestrained  by  moral  laws, 
the  great  painter  yielded  to  every  wish  of  the  eager  Pope 
with  an  almost  affectionate  confidence,  reflected  all  Leo's  high 
ambition  and  longing  after  fame,  toiled  to  complete  St.  Peter's, 
to  adorn  the  Vatican,  to  perfect  tapestries,  paint  portraits,  to 
discover  and  protect  the  ancient  works  of  art,  to  rebuild 
Rome;  until  at  last,  in  the  spring  of  1520,  his  genius  faded 
away,  leaving  its  immortal  fruits  behind  it.  Other  painters 
of  unusual  excellence  took  liis  place,  but  an  illimitable  dis- 
tance separates  them  all  from  Raffaello. 

Two  great  names  are  wanting  to  the  splendid  circle  of  Leo's 
court,  and  neither  Ariosto  nor  Michael  Angelo  can  be  said  to 
have  belonged  to  his  Golden  Age.  They  seem  to  have  shrunk 
from  him  almost  with  aversion.  Ariosto  was  the  only  true 
genius  among  the  poets  of  his  time.(°)  His  varied  fancy,  his 
brilliant  colors,  are  the  traits  of  the  true  artist.  He  had  early 
been  the  friend  of  Leo  before  he  becanie  Pope ;  he  went  up 
to  Rome  to  congratulate  the  pontiff  on  his  accession  ;  but  some 
sudden  coldness  sprung  up  between  the  poet  and  the  Pope 
which  led  to  their  complete  estrangement.  Ariosto  was  never 
seen  at  the  banquets  and  splendid  pageants  of  the  Holy  City ; 

(')  Eoscoe,  Leo  X.,  ii.,  p.  110.  C)  Id.,  p.  122. 


THE  POPE  IN  DANGER.  Y3 

his  claims  were  neglected,  his  genius  overlooked ;  and  the  au- 
thor of  ''  Orlando  Furioso  "  lived  and  died  in  poverty,  while 
Accolti  and  Aretino  glittered  in  the  prosperity  of  the  papal 
court.  Michael  Angelo,  too,  stood  aloof  from  the  pontiff. 
His  clear  eye  saw  through  the  jewels  and  gold  with  which 
Leo  had  decked  himself  to  the  corruption  of  his  inner  life. 
Luxurious,  licentious  Kaffaello  might  consent  to  obey  the 
imperious  will  of  the  graceful  actor,  but  his  rival  and  master 
lived  in  a  stern  isolation.  He  preferred  the  conversation  and 
the  correspondence  of  the  dignified  Vittoria  Colonna  to  the 
luxurious  revelry  of  Leo  and  his  satyr  train. 

But  Leo  cared  little  for  the  absence  of  those  whose  deeper 
sensibilities  might  have  disturbed  the  progress  of  his  splendid 
visions.     It  was  enough  for  him  that  he  was  the  Sovereign 
Pontiff ;  that  he  wore  the  tiara  to  w^hich  he  had  been  destined 
from  his  birth.     His  life  was  to  himself  a  complete  success. 
It  was  passed  in  revelries  and  pageants,  in  the  society  of  the 
rarest  wits  and  the  greatest  of  painters,  in  the  government  of 
nations  and  the  defense  of  Italy.      He  was  almost  always 
cheerful,  hopeful,  busy,  full  of  expedients.     He  lived  seem- 
ingly unconcerned  amidst  a  band  of  poisoners  who  were  al- 
ways plotting  his  death,  and  a  circle  of  subject  princes  who 
might  at  any  moment  overthrow  his  power.     He  smiled  while 
the  glittering  sword  hung  over  his  liead,  and  snatched  the 
pleasures  of  life  on  the  brink  of  a  fearful  abyss.     To  carry 
out  his  favorite  plan,  the  elevation  of  his  family  to  the  regal 
rank,  he  had  done  many  evil  deeds.     He  robbed  a  Duke  of 
Urbino  of  his  patrimony  through  war  and  bloodshed;  had 
driven  the  Petrucci  from  Siena ;  was  the  relentless  despoiler 
of  the  small  states  around  him.     Italy  mourned  that  the  Me- 
dici might  become  great.     Yet  so  shrunken  in  numbers  was 
the  famous  mercantile  family,  that  of  the  direct  legitimate 
descendants  of  Cosmo,  Leo  and  his  worthless  nephew  Lorenzo 
were  all  that  were  left.     Lorenzo,  a  drunkard  and  a  monster 
of  vice,  was  the  ruler  of  Florence,  and  for  him  Leo  despoiled 
the  Duke  of  Urbino ;  to  advance  Lorenzo  was  the  cliief  aim 
of  his  politics.     He  married  him,  at  length,  to  Madeline  of 
Tours ;  he  incurred  a  vast  expense  to  make  him  great ;  but, 


74  LEO  AND  LVIHEB. 

happily  for  Florence,  Lorenzo  not  long  after  died,  leaving  a 
daughter,  the  infamous  Catherine  de'  Medici,  the  persecutor 
and  the  murderess ;  and  thus  a  descendant  of  Cosmo  de'  Me- 
dici became  the  mother  of  three  kings  of  France. 

In  the  eyes  of  Europe,  Leo  seemed  the  most  fortunate  of 
men,  the  most  accomplished  of  rulers,  a  model  Pope.  The 
manners  and  the  gayeties  of  Rome  and  Florence  were  imi- 
tated in  the  less  civilized  courts  of  England,  France,  and  Ger- 
many. The  respect  which  Leo  ever  paid  to  artists,  scholars, 
and  men  of  letters  led  Francis,  Charles,  and  Henrv  YIII.  to 
become  their  patrons  and  their  friends.  Literature  became 
the  fashion.  The  polished  student  Erasmus  wandered  from 
court  to  court,  and  was  everywhere  received  as  the  compan- 
ion of  kings  and  princes.  Henry  YIII.  aspired  to  the  fame 
of  authorship,  and  wrote  bad  Latin.  Francis  cherished  poets 
and  painters.  Even  the  cold  Charles  V.  caught  the  literary 
flame.  Yet  the  manners  of  the  court  of  Eome  can  scarcely 
be  called  refined.  Leo  was  fond  of  coarse  buffoonery  and 
rude  practical  jokes.  lie  invited  notorious  gluttons  to  his  ta- 
ble, and  was  amused  at  the  eagerness  with  which  they  devour- 
ed the  costly  viands,  the  peacock  sausages,  or  the  rare  confec- 
tions.(')  He  was  highly  entertained  by  the  sad  drollery  of 
idiots  and  dwarfs.  A  story  is  told  of  Baraballo,  a  silly  old 
man  of  a  noble  family,  who  wrote  bad  verses  and  thought 
himself  another  Petrarch.  Leo  resolved  to  have  him  crowned 
like  Petrarch  in  the  Capitol.  A  day  was  appointed  for  the 
spectacle,  costly  preparations  were  made,  and  the  silly  Bara- 
ballo, decked  with  purple  and  gold,  and  mounted  upon  an  ele- 
phant, the  present  of  the  King  of  Portugal,  was  led  in  tri- 
umph through  the  streets  of  Rome,  amidst  the  shouts  of  the 
populace  and  the  clamor  of  drums  and  trumpets.(°)  At  the 
Bridge  of  St.  Angelo,  the  elephant,  more  sensible  than  his 
rider,  refused  to  go  any  farther ;  Baraballo  was  forced  to  dis- 
mount ;  all  Rome  was  filled  with  laughter ;  and  Leo  commem- 
orated his  unfeeling  joke  by  a  piece  of  sculpture  in  wood, 
which  is  said  to  be  still  in  existence.     Leo  was  also  passion- 

C)  Jovius,  p.  99.  (=)  Id.,  p.  97. 


THE  CARDINALS   WOULD  POISON  LEO.  75 

ately  fond  of  liimting.  No. calls  of  business,  no  inclemency 
of  the  weather,  could  keep  him  from  his  favorite  sport.  lie 
was  never  so  happy  as  when  shooting-  partridges  and  pheas- 
ants in  the  forests  of  Yiterbo,  or  chasing  wild  boars  on  the 
Tuscan  plains.  To  the  tine  ceremonial  of  his  Church  he  is 
said  to  have  been  unusually  attentive.  He  fasted  often,  in- 
toned with  grace,  and  his  love  for  music  led  him  to  gather 
from  all  parts  of  Europe  the  sweetest  singers  and  the  most 
skillful  instrumental  performers  to  adorn  the  Roman  churches. 

Thus  Leo  glided  gracefully  onward,  an  accomplished  actor, 
always  conscious  that  the  eye  of  Europe  was  upon  him,  and 
always  elegant,  polite,  composed.  Yet  there  must  often  have 
been  moments  when  his  gracious  smile  covered  an  inward  ag- 
ony or  a  secret  terror.  His  handsome,  stately  form  was  al- 
ways internally  diseased;  he  suffered  tierce  pangs  of  pain 
which  he  told  to  few ;  and  often,  as  he  presided  at  the  gay 
banquet  or  some  stormy  meeting  of  his  holy  college,  he  must 
have  mastered  with  iron  energy  the  terrible  agony  inflicted  by 
a  hidden  disease.  But  far  worse  even  than  actual  suffering 
was  the  constant  dread  in  which  he  must  have  always  lived. 
He  was  surrounded  by  poisoners  Avho  sought  his  life.  His 
daily  associates  were  those  most  likely  to  present  to  him  the 
deadly  draught.  It  was  the  holy  college  that  had  resolved 
upon  his  destruction. 

The  cardinals  formed  a  plot  to  poison  the  Pope.(')  He  had 
disaj)pointed  them  in  living  when  they  had  looked  for  his 
speedy  death,  and  he  had  never  been  able  to  gratify  the  bound- 
less claims  they  had  made  upon  the  sacred  treasury.  They 
were  the  most  resolute  and  unwearied  of  beggars.  "■  You  had 
better  at  once  take  my  tiara,"  said  the  weary  pontiff  when  he 
was  once  sun*ounded  by  the  holy  mendicants ;  and  he  ever 
after  was  hated  by  most  of  his  cardinals.  Among  them,  too, 
were  several  who  had  some  private  reason  for  seeking  Leo's 
death.  The  author  of  the  plot,  Alfonso  Petrucci,  had  lost  his 
revenues  at  Siena  by  the  fall  of  his  family  in  that  city,  and 
had  vowed  revenge.     He  was  a  young  man,  fierce,  dissolute, 

(')  Jovius,pp.88,89. 


76  LEO  AND  LVTHEB. 

gay,  feeble.  He  was  accustomed  to  proclaim  openly  among 
his  wild  companions  his  hatred  for  Leo  and  his  plans  of  venge- 
ance. Often  he  came  to  the  meetings  of  the  sacred  college 
with  a  dagger  hidden  in  his  breast,  and  was  only  withheld 
from  plunging  it  in  Leo's  heart  by  the  fear  of  seizure.  At 
length  he  concerted  with  a  famous  physician  the  plan  of  poison. 
The  most  eminent  man  in  the  college  of  cardinals  was  Riario, 
Cardinal  San  Giorgio.  He  was  the  wealthiest  of  his  order. 
He  had  been  a  cardinal  for  forty  years.  In  his  yoath  he  had 
shared  in  the  plot  to  murder  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  and  now  in 
his  old  age  he  aided  Petrucci  in  his  design  against  Leo.  He 
hoped,  on  the  Pope's  death,  to  become  his  successor.  Another 
conspirator  was  the  Cardinal  de'  Sauli,  who  had  furnished  Pe- 
trucci with  money.  Another,  Soderinus,  the  enemy  of  the 
Medici,  from  Florence.  The  last  was  the  silly  Adrian  of 
Corneto.  This  foolish  old  man  had  been  assured  by  a  female 
prophet  that  the  successor  to  Leo  would  be  named  Adrian, 
and  felt  sure  that  no  one  but  himself  could  be  meant.  It  was 
observed  that  the  soothsayer  spoke  truly,  and  that  the  next 
Pope  was  Adrian ;  but  not  the  poisoner.  How  many  others 
of  the  college  M'ere  engaged  in  the  plot  is  not  told.  Happily 
Leo  had  been  watching  Petrucci  for  some  time,  and  intercept- 
ed a  letter  that  revealed  the  whole  design.  Petrucci  was  ab- 
sent from  Rome,  and  Leo,  in  order  to  get  him  into  his  power, 
sent  him  a  safe-conduct,  and  even  assured  the  Spanish  embas- 
sador that  he  would  observe  it.  The  conspirator  came  laughing 
boastfully  to  the  city.  He  was  at  once  seized  and  shut  up  in 
the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo  with  his  friend  De'  Sauli ;  and  Leo 
excused  his  own  bad  faith  by  alleging  the  enormity  of  the 
crime. 

Pale,  agitated,  trembling,  the  Pope  now  met  his  cardinals 
in  the  consistory.  There  was  scarcely  one  to  whom  he  could 
trust  his  life.  He  was  surromided  by  secret  or  open  assassins, 
and  he  might  well  fear  lest  a  dagger  was  hidden  beneath  each 
sacred  robe.(')  He  addressed  them,  however,  with  his  usual 
dignity  ;  he  complained  that  he,  who  had  always  been  so  kind 


(')  Jovius,  p.  89.     Guicciard.,  xiii. 


LEO'S  EXTRAVAGANCE.  77 

and  liberal  to  them,  should  thus  be  threatened  by  their  con- 
spiracies. Kiario,  the  head  of  the  college,  was  already  under 
arrest ;  Petrucci  and  De'  Sauli  were  confined  in  horrible  dun- 
geons. The  Cardinal  Soderini  fell  down  at  Leo's  feet,  con- 
fessing his  guilt,  and  the  foolish  Adrian  was  equally  penitent. 
In  his  punishment  of  the  offenders  Leo  showed  all  the  severi- 
ty of  his  nature.  Petrucci  was  strangled  in  prison,  De'  Sauli 
was  released  on  paying  a  heavy  fine,  but  died  the  next  year,  it 
was  believed  of  poison.  Riario,  the  venerable  assassin,  was 
also  fined  heavily  and  forgiven.  Poor  Adrian  fled  from  Rome, 
with  the  loss  of  his  estate,  and  was  never  heard  of  more.  Thus 
Leo  broke  forever  the  power  of  his  enemies,  the  sacred  college, 
and  at  the  same  time  replenished  his  treasury  by  the  confisca- 
tion of  their  estates.  Soon  after,  by  a  vigorous  stroke  of  pol- 
icy, he  created  thirty-one  new  cardinals.  In  many  cases  the 
ofiice  was  sold  to  the  highest  bidder,  and  thus  Leo  was  once 
more  rich  and  happy.(')  He  was  now  (1517)  at  the  height 
of  his  power.  The  Church  was  omnipotent,  and  Leo  was  the 
Church.  His  cardinals  never  afterward  gave  him  any  trou- 
ble ;  every  heretic  had  been  suppressed  or  burned ;  the  city  of 
Rome  was  the  centre  of  civilization  as  well  as  of  religion; 
money  flowed  in  upon  it  from  all  the  world ;  and  the  lavish 
pontiff  wasted  the  treasures  of  the  Church  in  every  kind  of 
magnificent  extravagance. 

It  was  because  Leo  was  a  splendid  spendthrift  that  we  have 
the  Reformation  through  Luther.  The  Pope  was  soon  again 
impoverished  and  in  debt.  He  never  thought  of  the  cost  of 
any  thing ;  he  was  lavish  without  reflection.  His  wars,  in- 
trigues, his  artists  and  architects,  his  friends,  but  above  all  the 
miserable  Lorenzo,  exhausted  his  fine  revenues ;  and  his  treas- 
ury must  again  be  supplied.  When  he  was  in  want,  Leo  was 
never  scrupulous  as  to  the  means  by  which  he  retrieved  his 
affairs ;  he  robbed,  he  defrauded,  he  begged ;  he  drew  contri- 
butions from  all  Europe  for  a  Turkish  war,  which  all  Europe 
knew  had  been  spent  upon  Lorenzo ;  he  collected  large  sums 
for  rebuilding  St.  Peter's,  which  were  all  expended  in  the  same 

(')  Jovius,p.90. 


78  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

way ;  in  fine,  Leo  early  exhausted  all  his  spiritual  arts  as  well 
as  his  treasury .(') 

Suddenly  there  opened  before  liis  hopeless  mind  an  El  Do- 
rado richer  than  ever  Spanish  ad^■enturer  had  discovered, 
more  limitless  than  the  treasures  of  the  East  and  West.  It 
was  purgatory.  Over  that  shadowy  realm  the  Pope  held  un- 
disputed sway.  The  severest  casuist  of  the  age  would  admit 
that  the  spiritual  power  of  the  Church  was  in  that  direction 
limitless.  It  was  nearly  a  hundred  years  since  Tauler,  the 
German  reformer,  had  suffered  martyrdom  for  denying  that 
the  Pope  could  condemn  an  innocent  man  to  eternal  woe  or 
raise  the  guiltiest  to  the  habitations  of  the  blest ;  and  from 
that  hour  the  authority  of  the  pontiff  had  been  constantly  in- 
creasing, until  now  he  was  looked  upon  as  nothing  less  than 
Deity  upon  earth.  lie  held  in  his  polluted  hands  the  key  of 
immortality.  But  even  had  a  doubt  arisen  as  to  the  etficacy 
of  the  keys,  the  pious  Aquinas  had  shown  by  the  clearest  ar- 
gument that  the  Church  possessed  a  boundless  supply  of  the 
merits  of  the  saints,  and  even  of  its  Divine  Head^  which 
might  be  applied  to  the  succor  of  any  soul  that  seemed  to  re- 
quire external  aid.  Leo  seized  upon  the  notion  of  the  school- 
men, and  extended  it  to  an  extreme  which  they  perhaps  had 
never  anticipated.  He  pressed  the  sale  of  his  indulgences. 
He  offered  full  absolution  to  every  criminal  who  would  pay 
him  a  certain  sum  of  money,  joined  with  contrition ;  without 
contrition,  and  for  a  similar  payment,  he  offered  to  diminish 
the  term  for  which  any  person  Avas  condemned  to  purgatory, 
or  to  set  free  from  the  pains  of  purgatory  the  dej)arted  spirit 
whose  friends  Avould  pay  a  proper  remuneration.^  Over  the 
shadowy  land  in  Avliose  existence  he  can  scarcely  have  be- 
lieved, the  pontiff  presumed  to  extend  his  earthly  sceptre — to 
divide  it  into  periods  of  years,  to  map  it  out  in  distinct  grada- 
tions, and  to  sell  to  the  highest  bidder  the  longest  exemption 
or  a  swift  release.  It  was  a  dreadful  impiety,  a  horrible 
mockery ;  it  was  selling  immortal  bliss  for  money. 


(')  Joviiis,  p.  92-96. 

(■)  Eauke,  Ecf.,  i.,  p.  335,     Robertson,  Charles  Y.,  book 


ii. 


IND  ULGENCES.  79 

The  indulgence  was  first  used  by  Urban  II.,  in  the  period 
of  the  first  crusade,  to  reward  those  who  took  up  arms  for  the 
relief  of  the  Holy  Land.  It  was  then  granted  to  any  one 
who  hired  soldiers  for  the  war;  and  was  next  extended  to 
those  who  gave  money  to  the  Pope  for  some  pious  purpose. 
Julius  11.  had  employed  it  to  raise  money  to  rebuild  St. 
Peter's,  and  Leo  X.  sold  his  indulgences  upon  the  same  pre- 
text.(')  But  Leo's  indulgence,  as  set  forth  by  his  agents  in 
Germany,  far  excelled  those  of  his  predecessors  in  its  daring 
assumption.  It  pardoned  all  sins  however  gross,  restored  its 
purchaser  to  that  state  of  innocence  which  he  had  possessed  at 
baptism,  and  at  his  death  opened  at  once  to  him  the  gates  of 
paradise.  From  the  moment  that  he  had  obtained  this  valua- 
ble paper  he  became  one  of  the  elect.  lie  could  never  fall.f ) 
Whatever  his  future  crimes,  his  salvation  was  assured.  The 
honor  of  the  Pope  and  the  Church  was  pledged  to  secure  him 
against  any  punishment  he  might  merit  in  a  future  world,  and 
to  raise  him  at  last  to  the  society  of  the  blessed.  But  proba- 
bly the  most  attractive  and  merchantable  part  of  the  indul- 
gence was  that  which  set  free  departed  spirits  from  purgato- 
rial pains.  This  ingenious  device  played  upon  the  tenderest 
and  most  powerful  instincts  of  nature.  What  parent  could 
refuse  to  purchase  the  salvation  of  a  dead  child  ?  What  son 
but  would  sell  his  all  to  redeem  parents  and  relatives  from 
purgatory  ?  It  was  upon  such  themes  that  the  strolling  vend- 
ers of  indulgences  constantly  enlarged.  They  gathered  around 
them  a  gaping  throng  of  wondering  rustics;  they  stood  by 
the  village  church-yard  and  pointed  to  the  humble  graves. 
"  Will  you  allow  your  father  to  suffer,"  Tetzel  cried  out  to  a 
credulous  son,  "  when  twelve  pence  will  redeem  him  from  tor- 
inent  ?  If  you  had  but  one  coat,  you  should  strip  it  off,  sell 
it,  and  purchase  my  wares."  "  Hear  you  not,"  he  would  say 
to  another,  "  the  groans  of  your  lost  child  in  yonder  church- 
yard? Come  and  buy  his  immediate  salvation.  No  sooner 
shall  your  money  tinkle  in  my  box  than  his  soul  will  ascend  to 

(')  Sarpi,  Con.  Tri.,  p.  4  et  seq.     Paluviciui,  Hist.  Con.  Tiideut. 
C)  Seckeudorf,  Com.,  i.,  p.  14. 


80  LEO  AXD  LUTHER. 

heaven."  Thus  Leo  made  a  traffic  of  immortal  bliss.  There 
is  something  almost  sublime  in  his  presumption.  From  his 
gorgeous  throne  in  the  Eternal  City  he  stood  before  mankind 
claiming  a  divine  authority  over  the  world  and  all  that  it  con- 
tained. Kings,  emperors,  princes,  were  his  infenors  and  his 
spiritual  sei-fs.  He  divided  the  globe  between  the  Spaniards 
and  Portuguese.  His  simple  legate  was  to  take  the  prece- 
dence of  princes.  It  was  the  fashion  of  the  churchmen  of  the 
day  to  magnify  their  office,  to  claim  for  it  an  immutable  supe- 
riority, as  if  the  office  sanctified  the  possessor.(')  Conscious  of 
their  own  impurity  and  hypocrisy,  they  sought,  as  is  so  often 
the  case  with  immoral  priests,  to  raise  themselves  above  pub- 
lic scrutiny,  and  to  create  for  themselves  a  position  amidst 
the  clouds  of  imputed  sanctity,  where,  like  their  prototypes, 
the  heathen  gods,  they  might  sin  unchallenged.  They  looked 
down  with  contempt  upon  the  too  curious  worshiper,  who  was 
unfit  to  touch  their  garments ;  they  veiled  themselves  in  the 
dignity  of  the  office  they  degraded.  But  the  earthly  state 
assumed  by  the  haughty  priests  was  as  nothing  compared  to 
their  spiritual  claims.  The  Popes  professed  to  concentrate  in 
themselves  all  the  power  and  virtue  of  the  Church.  They 
were  its  despots.('')  The  evil  Alexander  and  the  fierce  Julius 
had  condemned  to  eternal  woe  whoever  should  appeal  to  a 
council.  Leo  spoke  to  the  world  as  its  divine  ruler.  He  was 
the  possessor  of  all  the  merits  of  the  saints  and  martyrs,  and 
of  the  boundless  sufficiency  of  Calvary.  He  ruled  over  the 
future  world  as  well  as  the  present  ;Q  he  could  unfold  the 
gates  of  paradise,  and  snatch  the  guilty  from  the  jaws  of  hell ; 
his  power  extended  over  countless  subjects  in  the  shadowy 
world,  whose  destiny  depended  on  his  pleasure,  and  who  were 
the  slaves  of  his  caprice. 

The  indulgences  at  first   sold  well.     But   their  sale   was 
chiefly  confined  to  Gennany.(')     Spain,  under  the  control  of 

(')  See  Eccius,  De  Priniatu  Petri,  1520. 

{^)  Eccius  argues  that  the  Church  must  be  a  monarchy,  ii.,  p.  81. 
(^)  The  control  of  demons  is  still  asserted.     See  Propagatiou  de  la  Foi, 
1867,  pp.  39,  439.     At  least  Chinese  demons. 
(*)  Ranke,  Ref.,  i.,  p.  332-335. 


^.V  EL  DORADO.  81 

Ximenes,  liad  long  before  refused  to  permit  its  wealtli  to  be 
drained  into  the  treasury  of  Rome.  France  was  liostile  to  the 
Pope.  England  yielded  only  a  small  return.  But  over  the 
dull  peasants  of  Germany  the  acute  Italians  had  succeeded  in 
weaving  their  glittering  web  of  superstition,  until  that  unhap- 
py land  had  become  the  El  Dorado  of  the  Church.  Every 
year  immense  sums  of  money  had  flowed  from  Germany  to 
Kome  for  annats,  palliums,  and  various  other  ecclesiastical  de- 
vices ;  and  now  the  whole  country  was  divided  into  three  great 
departments  under  the  care  of  three  commissions  for  the  sale 
of  indulgences.(')  Itinerant  traders  in  the  sacred  commodity 
passed  from  town  to  town  and  fair  to  fair,  extolling  the  value 
of  their  letters  of  absolution  and  pressing  them  upon  the  pop- 
ular attention.  They  were  followed  wherever  they  went  by 
great  throngs  of  people ;  and  their  loud  voices,  coarse  jokes, 
and  shameless  eloquence  seem  to  have  been  attended  with 
extraordinary  success.  They  are  represented  as  having  been 
usually  persons  of  worthless  characters  and  licentious  morals, 
who  passed  their  nights  in  drinking  and  revelry  at  taverns, 
and  their  days  in  making  a  mockery  of  religion ;  who  proved 
the  value  of  the  plenary  indulgence  by  the  daring  immorality 
of  their  lives.  They  were  secure  in  the  shelter  of  Rome,  and 
had  a  safe-conduct  to  celestial  bliss. 

The  Elector  Frederick  of  Saxony  was  now  the  most  power- 
ful of  the  German  princes.  His  dominions  were  extensive 
and  wealthy ;  he  was  sagacious,  Arm,  and  honest ;  and  he  had 
always  opposed  with  success  the  various  eiforts  of  the  Popes 
to  draw  contributions  from  his  priest-ridden  subjects.(^)  Fred- 
erick was  already  irritated  against  the  Elector  of  Mentz,  who 
had  in  charge  the  sale  of  indulgences ;  and  he  openly  declared 
that  Albert  should  not  pay  his  private  debts  "  out  of  the  pock- 
ets of  the  Saxons."  He  saw  with  indignation  that  his  people 
were  beginning  to  resort  in  great  numbers  to  the  sellers  of  the 
pious  frauds.  But  the  resistance  of  Frederick  to  the  religious 
excitement  of  the  day  would  have  proved  ineffectual  had  he 
not  been  aided  by  an  humble  instrument  whose  future  omnip- 

(')  Rauke,  Eef.,  i.,  p.  333.  C)  Id.,  p.  341.    • 

6 


82  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

otence  lie  could  scarcely  liave  foreseen.    It  was  to  a  poor  monk 
that  Saxony  and  Germany  were  to  owe  their  deliverance  from 
Italian  priestcraft.     Five  years  had  passed  since  Martin  Lu- 
ther had  returned  from  his  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  with  his  hon- 
est conscience  stricken  and  horrilied  by  the  pagan  atmosphere 
of  the  Holy  City.     During  that  period  the  poor  scholar  had 
risen  to  eminence  and  renown.(')     He  had  become  professor 
in  the  university  at  Wittenberg,  wdiich  the  Elector  Frederick 
had  founded ;  his  eloquence  and  learning,  his  purity  and  his 
vigor,  had  given  him  a  strong  control  over  the  students  and 
the  people  of  the   small   scholastic   city.      Already  he  had 
wrought  a  lesser  reformation  in  the  manners  and  the  lives  of 
the  throngs  who  listened  to  his  animated  preaching ;  already 
he  had  even  planned  a  general  reform  of  the  German  Church. 
But  as  yet  Luther  had  entertained  no  doubts  of  the  papal  su- 
premacy.    He  still  practiced  all  the  austerity  of  penance,  and 
still  clung  to  all  the  formulas  of  his  faith.     The  Pope  was 
still  to  him  a  deity  upon  earth ;  Eome,  the  city  of  St.  Peter 
and  the  martyrs ;  the  Fathers,  an  indisputable  authority  ;  and 
although  he  had  learned  to  study  the  Scriptures  with  earnest 
attention,  he  yet  interpreted  them  by  the  light  of  other  con- 
sciences than  his  own.     His  honest  intellect  still  slumbered 
under  that  terrible  weight  of  superstition  beneath  which  the 
cunning   Italians  had  imprisoned  the  mind  of   the  Middle 
Ages. 

A  shock  aroused  Luther  from  his  slumber ;  a  shock  startled 
all  Germany  into  revolt.  The  loud  voice  of  the  shameless 
Tetzel  was  heard  in  Saxony  extolling  his  impious  wares,  and 
claiming  to  be  the  dispenser  of  immortal  bliss.  His  life  had 
been  one  of  gross  immorality ;  he  was  an  ignorant  and  coarse 
Dominican ;  his  rude  jokes  and  brutal  demeanor,  his  reveh-ies 
and  his  licentious  tongue,  filled  pious  men  with  affright.  He 
ventured  to  approach  Wittenberg,  and  some  of  Luthers  i)a- 
rishioners  wandered  away  to  the  neighboring  towns  of  Jiiter- 
bock  to  join  with  the  multitude  who  were  buying  absolution 

(')  Luther's  Briefweclasel,  by  Burkliardt,  16GG.  lie  soou  begius  to  corre- 
spoud  with  the  highest  officials. 


LUTHER'S  DANGER.  83 

from  the  dissolute  friar.(')  It  was  the  decisive  moment  of 
modern  history.  The  mightiest  intellect  of  the  age  was 
roused  into  sudden  action ;  the  intellect  whose  giant  strength 
was  to  shiver  to  atoms  the  magnificent  fabric  of  papal  super- 
stition, and  give  freedom  to  thought  and  liberty  to  man.  Lu- 
ther rose  up  inspired.  He  wrote  out  in  fair  characters  his 
ninety -five  propositions  on  the  doctrine  of  indulgences,  and 
nailed  them  (1517)  to  the  gates  of  liis  j)arochial  church  at 
Wittenberg.  lie  proclaimed  to  mankind  that  the  Pope  had 
no  power  to  forgive  sin ;  that  the  just  must  live  by  faith. 
Swift  as  the  electric  flash  which  had  won  him  from  the  world 
his  bold  thoughts  rushed  over  Germany,  and  startled  the  cor- 
rupt atmosphere  of  Rome.  It  is  related  that  just  after  his 
daring  act  the  Elector  Frederick,  as  he  slept  in  his  castle  of 
Schweinitz,  on  the  night  of  All-Saints,  dreamed  that  he  saw 
the  monk  writing  on  the  chapel  at  "Wittenberg  in  characters 
so  large  that  they  could  be  read  at  Schweinitz ;  longer  and 
longer  grew  Luther's  pen,  till  at  last  it  reached  Rome,  struck 
the  Pope's  triple  crown,  and  made  it  tremble  on  his  head. 
Frederick  stretched  forth  his  arm  to  catch  the  tiara  as  it  fell, 
but  just  then  awoke.  All  Germany  dreamed  a  similar  dream ; 
it  awoke  to  find  it  a  reality.(*) 

Germany  was  then  no  safe  place  for  reformers  or  heretics. 
It  was  in  a  state  of  miserable  anarchy  and  barbarism.  The 
great  cities,  grown  rich  by  commerce  and  honest  industry, 
were  engaged  in  constant  hostilities  with  the  robber  knights 
whose  powerful  castles  studded  the  romantic  banks  of  the 
Rhine  and  filled  the  fastnesses  of  the  interior. (')  Often  the 
long  trains  of  wealthy  traders  on  their  way  to  Nuremberg  or 
the  fair  at  Leipsic  were  set  upon  by  the  lordly  robbers,  who 
sprung  upon  them  from  some  castled  crag,  their  rare  goods 
were  ravished  away,  their  hard-earned  gains  torn  from  them, 
and  the  prisoners  condemned  to  torture  and  dismal  dungeons 
until  they  had  paid  an  excessive  ransom.  Often  rich  burgh- 
ers came  back  to  their  native  cities  from  some  unfortunate 
trading  expedition  impoverished,  with  one  hand  lopj)ed  off, 

(•)  Ranke,  Eef.,  i.,  p.  343.  C)  Id,  i.,  p.  343.  C)  Id.,  l,  p.  223. 


84  LEO  AXD  LUTHER. 

and  sliowiiig  their  bleeding  arms  to  tlicir  enraged  fellow-citi- 
zens. Even  poor  scholars  were  often  seized,  tortured,  and  the 
miserable  sums  they  had  won  by  begging  torn  from  them  by 
the  brutal  nobles.  The  knights,  like  Gotz  von  Berlichingen, 
boasted  that  they  were  the  wolves,  and  the  rich  traders  the 
sheep  upon  whom  they  preyed.  But  terrible  was  the  revenge 
which  the  citizens  were  accustomed  to  take  upon  their  de- 
spoilers.  When  their  mounted  train-bands  issued  forth  from 
the  gates  of  Nuremberg  the  tenants  of  every  castle  trembled 
and  grew  pale.  The  brave  Nurembergers  swept  the  country 
far  and  wide.  They  scaled  the  lofty  crags,  swarmed  over  the 
tottering  walls,  and  burned  or  massacred  the  robbers  in  their 
dens.  Noble  birth  was  then  of  no  avail;  knightly  prowess 
awoke  no  pity ;  the  castle  was  made  the  smoldering  grave  of 
its  owners.  Yet  the  knights  would  soon  again  renew  their 
strongholds,  and  once  more  revive  this  perpetual  civil  war. 
Every  part  of  Germany  was  desolated  by  the  ruthless  strife. 

Above  the  knights  were  the  princes  and  electors,  who  prey- 
ed upon  the  people  by  taxes  and  heavy  contributions.  At  the 
head  of  all  stood  the  Emperor  Maximilian,  who  seized  upon 
whatever  he  could  get  by  force  or  fraud.  Yet  the  influence 
most  fatal  to  the  prosperity  of  Germany  was  that  of  the  Ital- 
ian Church.  Eome  raled  over  Germany  with  a  remorseless 
sway.  Heresy  was  punished  by  the  fierce  Dominicans  with 
torture  and  the  stake.  The  Church,  it  is  estimated,  held  near- 
ly one-half  of  all  the  land,  and  would  pay  no  taxes.  Every 
church  was  an  asylum  in  which  murderers  and  malefactors 
found  a  safe  refuge,  and  the  Church  establishments  in  the  rich 
cities  were  looked  upon  by  the  prosperous  citizens  as  fatal  to 
the  public  peace.  They  were  dens  of  thieves  and  assassins. 
The  characters  of  the  German  priests  and  monks,  too,  were 
often  vile  beyond  description,  and  the  classic  satire  of  Eras- 
mus and  the  skillful  pencil  of  Holbein  have  portrayed  only 
an  outline  of  their  crimes. 

In  such  a  land  Luther  must  have  felt  that  he  could  scarcely 
hope  for  safety.  He  must  have  foreseen,  as  he  took  his  ir- 
revocable step,  that  he  exposed  himself  to  the  Incpiisition  and 
the  stake.     He  was  at  once  encountered  by  a  host  of  enemies. 


GEEMANY  UXQUIET.  85 

Tetzel  declaimed  against  him  in  coarse  invectives  as  a  heretic 
worthy  of  death.(')     Priests  and  professors,  the  universities 
and  the  pulpit,  united  in  his  condemnation.     He  was  already 
marked  out  by  his  enemies  as  the  victim  whose  blood  was  to 
seal  the  supremacy  of  the  Pope.     Yet  his  wonderful  intellect 
in  this  moment  of  danger  began  now  to  display  its  rare  fer- 
tility.    He  wrote  incessantly  in  defense  of  his  opinions ;  his 
treatises  spread  over  Germany ;  and  very  «soon  the  reform 
tracts,  multiplied  by  the  printing-press,  were  sold  and  distrib- 
uted in  great  numbers  through  all  the  fairs  and  cities  of  the 
land.     The  German  intellect  awoke  with  the  controversy,  and 
all  true  Geraians  began  to  look  with  admiration  and  sjm- 
pathy  upon  the  brave  monk  who  had  ventured  to  defy  the 
power  of  the  papal  court.     At  Pome,  meantime,  nothing  was 
less  thought  of  than  a  schism  in  the  Church.     Leo  was  at  the 
height  of  his  prosperity.     He  had  just  dissolved  the  Lateran 
Council,  which  had  yielded  him  a  ready  obedience ;  his  cardi- 
nals were  submissive ;  he  was  the  most  powerful  and  fortunate 
of  Popes.     From  dull  and  priest-ridden  Germany  he  looked 
for  no  trouble,  and  when  he  first  heard  of  the  controversy  be- 
tween Luther  and  the  Dominicans  he  spoke  of  it  as  a  wrangle 
of  barbarous  monks.     The  fierce  storm  that  was  gathering  in 
the  North  was  scarcely  noticed  amidst  the  gay  banquets  and 
tasteful  revelries  of  Pome.     But  this  could  not  continue  long. 
It  was  soon  seen  by  the  papal  courtiers  that  if  Luther  was 
permitted  to  write  and  live,  a  large  part  of  their  revenues 
would  be  cut  off ;  and  Leo  himself  felt  that  if  he  allowed  his 
dominion  over  purgatory  to  be  called  in  question,  he  must 
soon  cease  to  adorn  the  Vatican  or  subsidize  Lorenzo.     If  he 
lost  his  shadowy  El  Dorado,  where  could  he  turn  for  money  ? 
The  remedy  was  easy  ;  he  must  silence  or  destroy  the  monk. 
He  issued  a  summons  (July,  15IS)  for  Luther  to  appear  at 
Pome  within  sixty  days,  to  answer  for  his  heresies  before  his 
Inquisitor-General.      Soon  after,  as  he  learned  the  extent  of 
his  danger,  he  sent  orders  to  his  legate  in  Germany  to  have 
the  monk  seized  and  brought  to  the  Holy  City. 

C)  Rauke,  Ref.,  i.,  p.  347. 


86  LEO  AND  LVTEEE. 

If  this  arrogant  decree  had  been  executed,  there  can  be  little 
doubt  as  to  what  must  have  been  Luther's  fate.  He  must  have 
pined  away  in  some  Iloman  dungeon,  have  perished  under 
torture,  or  have  sunk,  Hke  the  offending  cardinals,  beneath  the 
slow  effect  of  secret  poison.  The  insignificant  monk  would 
have  proved  an  easy  victim  to  the  experts  of  Rome,  But, 
fortunately  for  the  reformer,  all  Germany  was  now  become 
his  friend.  In  a  few  brief  months  he  had  become  a  hero. 
Never  was  there  so  sudden  a  rise  to  influence  and  renown. 
His  name  was  already  famous  from  the  Baltic  to  the  Alps ; 
scholars  and  princes  wrote  to  him  words  of  encouragement ; 
the  common  people  followed  him  as  their  leader;  and  the 
great  Elector  of  Saxony,  the  most  potent  of  the  German 
princes,  was  the  open  patron  of  the  eloquent  monk.  Ger- 
many was  resolved  that  its  honest  thinker  should  not  be  ex- 
posed  to  the  evil  arts  of  liome ;  and  Leo,  obliged  to  employ 
milder  expedients  to  enforce  his  authority,  consented  that  his 
chief  adversary  should  be  permitted  to  defend  his  opinions 
before  Cardinal  Cajetan  at  Augsburg.  It  was  Luther's  first 
great  victory. 

Still,  however,  he  was  in  imminent  danger.  If  Germany 
was  on  his  side,  yet  all  the  Italian  Germans  were  more  than 
ever  eager  for  his  destruction.  The  corrupt  priests,  the  dis- 
solute monks,  the  fierce  Dominicans,  the  Pope,  the  Church, 
even  the  Emperor  Maximilian,  were  arrayed  against  the  true- 
hearted  monk.  He  lived  in  the  constant  presence  of  death. 
Yet  his  spiritual  agonies  were,  no  doubt,  to  Luther  more  intol- 
erable than  any  physical  danger ;  for  he  was  still  only  a  search- 
er after  truth.  Ilis  nights  and  days  were  passed  in  an  eager 
study  of  the  Scriptures ;  he  moved  slowly  onward  through 
an  infinite  course  of  mental  improvement ;  he  was  forced  to 
snatch  the  jewels  of  faith  from  the  dim  caverns  of  supersti- 
tion; he  groped  his  way  painfully  toward  the  light.  Yet  so 
admirable  was  the  disposition  of  this  renowned  reformer  that 
through  all  his  dangers  he  was  always  hopeful,  often  joyous 
and  gay.  Sickness,  pain,  mental  or  physical  terrors,  could  nev- 
er deprive  his  gallant  nature  of  its  hidden  stores  of  joy  and 
peace.     His  clear  voice  often  rose  high  in  song  or  hymn ;  he 


INTELLECTUAL   TOUEXEYS.  87 

was  the  gay  and  cheerful  companion,  always  the  tender  friend ; 
his  lute  often  sounded  cheerfully  in  still  nights  at  Wittenberg 
or  Wartburg;  and  his  love  for  poetry  and  letters  soothed 
many  an  hour  he  was  enabled  to  win  from  his  weary  labors. 
Compared  with  his  persecutor,  Leo,  Luther's  was  by  far  the 
happier  life.  His  joys  were  pure,  his  impulses  noble,  his  con- 
science stainless;  while  Leo  strove  to  find  his  joy  in  coarse 
buffoonery  and  guilty  revels,  in  outward  magnificence  and 
idle  glitter. 

There  now  began  a  series  of  wonderful  intellectual  tourna- 
ments, the  successors  of  the  brutal  encounters  of  chivalry  and 
the  Middle  Ages,  in  which  the  true  knight,  Luther,  beat  down 
his  pagan  assailants  with  the  iron  mace  of  truth.(')  It  had  be- 
come the  custom  in  Germany  for  scholars  to  dispute  before 
splendid  audiences  abstruse  questions  of  philosophy  and  learn- 
ing; but  the  questions  which  Luther  discussed  were  such  as 
had  never  been  ventured  upon  before.  Was  the  Pope  infalli- 
ble ?  Could  he  save  a  guilty  soul  ?  Could  not  even  councils 
err  ?  Was  not  Huss  a  true  martyr  ?  Knights,  princes,  emper- 
ors, gathered  round  the  pale,  sad  monk  as  he  discussed  these 
daring  themes,  heard  with  a  strange  awe  his  eloquent  argu- 
ment which  they  scarcely  understood,  and  were  still  in  doubt 
whether  to  accept  him  as  a  leader  or  to  bind  him  to  the  stake. 
The  first  of  these  noted  encounters  occurred  (1518)  at  Augs- 
burg, where  the  graceful  Cardinal  Cajetan,  fresh  from  the  At- 
tic atmosphere  of  Rome,  came  to  subdue  the  barbarous  Ger- 
man by  force  or  fraud.  Luther  came  to  the  hostile  city  full 
of  fears  of  the  subtlety  of  his  polished  opponent-C")  He  felt 
that  it  was  by  no  means  incredible  that  the  cardinal  was  com- 
missioned to  seize  him  and  carry  him  to  a  Roman  prison ;  he 
knew  that  Maximilian,  who  was  still  Emperor  of  Germany, 
was  not  unwilling  to  gratify  the  Pope  by  his  surrender.  Yet 
so  poor  and  humble  was  this  object  of  the  enmity  of  prelates 
and  rulers  that  Luther  was  obliged  to  beg  his  way  to  Augs- 
burg. Sick,  faint,  dressed  in  a  borrowed  cowl,  his  frame 
gaunt  and  thin,  his  wild  eyes  glittering  with  supernatural 

C)  Walch,  xxiv.,  p.  434.  C)  Rauke,  Ref.,  i.,  p.  427. 


88  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

lire,  the  monk  entered  the  city.  Tlie  people  crowded  to  see 
him  pass;  he  was  protected  by  a  safe  conduct  from  Maximil- 
ian and  the  patronage  of  Elector  Frederick ;  and  he  met  the 
cardinal  boldly.  Yet  it  was  hardly  an  equal  encounter ;  for 
Lnther  was  sick,  faint,  poor,  and  in  peril  of  his  life,  while 
Cajetan,  in  the  glow  of  wealth  and  power,  was  the  legate  and 
representative  of  infallible  Rome.  At  first,  in  several  inter- 
views, the  cardinal  consented  to  argue,  but  when  Luther  com- 
pletely confused  and  overthrew  him,  the  enraged  combatant, 
with  a  false  and  meaning  smile,  commanded  the  monk  to  sub- 
mit to  the  judgment  of  the  Church.  Luther  soon  after  fled 
from  Augsburg,  conscious  that  he  was  no  longer  safe  in  the 
hands  of  his  enemies.  Leo,  in  November,  issued  his  bull  de- 
claring his  right  to  grant  indulgences,  and  the  monk  replied, 
with  bold  menaces,  by  an  appeal  from  the  Pope  to  the  decis- 
ion of  a  council  of  the  Church. 

Maximilian  died,  and  an  interregnum  followed,  during 
which  the  Elector  of  Saxony  became  the  ruler  of  Germany. 
Safe  in  his  protection,  the  monk  continued  to  write,  to  preach, 
to  advance  in  religious  knowledge ;  and  a  wild  excitement 
arose  throughout  the  land.  Melanchtlion  joined  Luther  at 
"Wittenberg,  a  young  man  of  twenty,  the  best  Greek  scholar 
of  his  time,  and  the  two  friends  pursued  their  studies  and 
their  war  against  the  Pope  together.  But  a  second  grand  in- 
tellectual tournament  soon  summoned  the  knight-errant  of  re- 
ligious liberty  to  buckle  on  his  armor.  It  was  at  Leipsic,  a 
city  devoted  to  the  papacy,  that  Luther  was  to  defend  the 
E,eformation.(')  His  chief  opponent  w^as  Eck  or  Eccius,  a 
German  priest,  learned,  eloquent,  ambitious,  corrupt,  and  eager 
to  win  the  favor  of  his  master  at  Rome.  He  had  assailed  the 
opinions  of  Carlstadt,  one  of  Luther's  associates  at  Witten- 
berg, and  now  the  reformer  was  to  appear  in  defense  of  his 
friend.  The  Leipsic  university  M-as  bitterly  hostile  to  Wit- 
tenberg and  reform,  and  Eck  rejoiced  to  have  an  opportunity 
to  display  his  eloquence  and  learning  in  the  midst  of  the  most 
Catholic  city  of  Germany.     It  was  whispered  that  Eck  was 

(')  W;ilcb,  xxiv.,  p.  434. 


LVTHEB  AND  ECK.  89 

too  fond  of  Bavarian  beer,  and  tliat  his  morals  were  far  from 
purity ;  yet  he  was  welcomed  by  the  students  and  professors 
of  Leipsic  with  joy  and  proud  congratulations  as  the  invincible 
champion  of  the  Church. 

Soon  the  Wittenbergers  appeared,  riding  in  low,  open  wag- 
ons, to  the  hostile  city,  in  the  pleasant  month  of  June.  Carl- 
stadt  came  first,  then  Luther  and  Melanchthon,  then  the  young 
Duke  of  Pomerania,  a  student  and  rector  of  Wittenberg,  and 
then  a  throng  of  other  students,  most  of  them  on  foot  and 
armed  with  halberds,  battle-axes,  and  spears,  to  defend  them- 
selves or  their  professors  in  case  of  attack ;  and  it  was  noticed 
as  a  mark  of  unusual  discourtesy  that  none  of  the  Leipsic  col- 
leg-ians  or  teachers  came  out  to  meet  their  literarv  rivals.  Yet 
every  necessary  preparation  had  been  made  by  the  good-nat- 
nred  Duke  George  for  the  mental  combat.  A  spacious  hall 
in  the  castle,  hung  with  tapestry  and  provided  with  two  pul- 
pits for  the  speakers  and  seats  for  a  large  audience,  was  ar- 
ranged for  the  occasion ;  and  the  proceedings  opened  with 
a  solemn  mass.  A  noble  and  splendid  audience  filled  the 
room.(')  The  interest  was  intense ;  the  champions,  the  most 
renowned  theologians  in  Germany ;  their  subject,  the  origin 
and  authority  of  the  papal  power  at  Eome.(^)  Carlstadt  com- 
menced the  argument,  but  in  a  few  days  he  was  completely 
discomfited  by  his  practiced  opponent.  The  Wittenbergers 
were  covered  with  confusion.  Eck's  loud  voice,  tall,  muscular 
figure,  violent  gestures,  quick  retort,  and  ready  learning  seem- 
ed to  carry  him  over  the  field  invincible.  But  on  the  4th  of 
July,  a  day  memorable  for  another  reform,  the  interest  was  re- 
doubled as  Martin  Luther  rose.  He  was  of  middle  size,  and 
so  thin  as  to  seem  almost  fleshless.  His  voice  was  weak  com- 
pared to  that  of  his  opponent ;  his  bearing  mild  and  modest. 
But  he  was  now  in  his  thirty-sixth  year ;  his  intellect,  worn  by 
many  toils  and  ceaseless  labor,  was  in  its  full  vigor ;  and  his 
eager  search  after  truth  had  given  him  a  strength  and  novelty 
of  thought  that  no  scholar  of  the  age  could  equal.  He  as- 
cended the  platform  with  joy,  and  it  w^as  noticed  that  the  fond 

(')  Walch,  sxiv.,  p.  434-437.  (=)  It  led  to  this. 


to  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

lover  of  nature  carried  a  nosegay  in  his  hand.  Luther,  at  once 
neglecting  all  minor  topics,  assailed  the  authority  of  the  Pope. 
With  perfect  self-command  he  ruled  his  audience  at  will,  and 
princes  and  professors  listened  with  awe  and  almost  terror  as 
tliey  heard  the  daring  novelty  of  his  argument.  From  deny- 
ing the  authority  of  the  Pope  he  advanced  to  the  denial  of 
the  supremacy  of  a  council ;  he  unfolded  with  eloquent  candor 
the  long  train  of  progressive  thought  through  which  his  own. 
mind  had  just  passed ;  to  the  horror  of  all  true  Catholics,  he 
suggested  tliat  IIuss  might  have  been  a  martyr.  The  audience 
was  appalled ;  Duke  George,  startled,  uttered  a  loud  impreca- 
tion. The  discomfited  Eccius  exclaimed,  "  Then,  reverend  fa- 
ther, you  are  to  me  as  a  heathen  and  a  publican." 

The  Wittenbergers  retm'ned  in  safety  and  triumph  to  their 
college.  But  the  corrupt  nature  of  Eck,  exasperated  by  Lu- 
ther's bold  defiance,  led  him  to  resolve  on  the  destruction  of 
his  opponent.  Nothing  would  satisfy  him  but  that  the  brave 
monk  should  meet  the  fate  of  John  Huss  or  Jerome  of  Prague. 
Eck,  like  Luther,  was  a  German  peasant's  son  ;(')  his  persistent 
malignity  now  decided  the  destiny  of  the  Church.  He  has- 
tened to  Rome,  and  aroused  the  passions  of  Leo  by  his  fierce 
declamations  against  Luther ;  the  prudent  pontiff  seems  to  have 
been  forced  into  extreme  measures  by  the  violence  of  the  cor- 
rupt German;  and  Eck  returned  to  Germany  armed  with  a 
papal  bull  condemning  Luther's  writings  to  the  flames,Q  and 
commanding  him  to  recant  his  heresies  within  sixty  days,  or 
to  be  expelled  from  the  Church.  But  Luther  had  already  re- 
solved to  abandon  the  Church  of  Rome  forever.  He  pro- 
claimed his  decision  by  a  remarkable  act.  On  the  10th  of  De- 
cember, 1520,  in  the  presence  of  an  immense  throng  of  stu- 
dents, magistrates,  and  persons  of  every  rank,  the  bold  monk 
cast  into  a  blazing  fire,  without  the  walls  of  Wittenberg, 
the  Pope's  bull  and  a  copy  of  the  papal  decrees.  Erom  their 
smoldering  ashes  sjDrung  up  the  Church  of  the  Reformation. 

Leo,  enraged  beyond  endurance,  now  issued  the  bull  of  ex- 
communication, the  most  terrible  of  the  anathemas  of  the 

(')  Rauke,  Ref.,  i.,  p.  444.  C)  Dated  Juue  15tb,  1520. 


LUTHEB  SUMMONED   TO   WORMS.  91 

Churcli.  Luther  was  declared  accursed  of  God  and  man. 
Tliere  had  been  a  time  when  such  a  sentence  would  have  ap- 
palled the  greatest  monarch  in  Christendom ;  when  the  ex- 
communicate had  been  looked  upon  by  all  men  with  horror 
and  dread ;  when  he  was  cut  off  from  the  society  of  his  fel- 
lows, and  was  held  as  an  outlaw  deserving  of  instant  death. 
But  to  Luther  no  such  fatal  consequences  followed.  Ilis 
friends  gathered  around  him  more  firmly  than  ever;  men  of 
intellect  in  every  land  acknowledged  his  greatness,  and  Ger- 
many rejoiced  in  the  fame  of  its  hero.  Yet  nothing  is  more 
remarkable  in  the  history  of  this  wonderful  man  than  that 
he  escaped  death  by  poison  or  assassination ;  that  in  the  midst 
of  a  land  of  anarchy  and  crime,  surrounded  by  powerful  en- 
emies, cut  oif  from  the  Church,  accursed  by  the  Pope,  he 
should  yet  have  been  permitted  to  pursue,  unmolested,  his 
career  of  reform,  to  succeed  in  all  his  designs,  to  baffle  all  his 
foes,  and  finally  to  die  in  peace,  sm-rounded  by  his  loving 
family,  in  the  very  town  where  he  was  born.  Another  mighty 
foe  had  now  suddenly  started  up  as  if  to  complete  Luther's 
ruin.  Charles  Y.  had  become  Emperor  of  Germany.  He 
was  a  young  man  of  twenty,  cold,  grave,  sickly,  unscrupulous ; 
he  had  been  educated  in  the  remorseless  school  of  the  Domin- 
icans, and  was  the  most  devoted  servant  of  the  Church.  To 
Charles  Leo  now  appealed  for  aid  against  the  arch-heretic,  and 
the  young  monarch  summoned  Luther  before  him  at  the  fa- 
mous Diet  of  Worms."(') 

Far  and  wide  over  Germany  spread  the  news  that  the  re- 
former had  been  cited  to  appear  before  the  Emperor,  and  all 
men  believed  that  the  crisis  of  his  fate  was  at  hand.  Every 
eye  was  turned  upon  the  humble  monk.  The  peasant's  son 
was  about  to  stand  before  princes,  and  every  true  German 
heart  warmed  with  love  and  pity  for  him,  who  seemed  certain 
to  fall  before  his  mighty  foes.  Luther's  friends  strove  to 
prevent  him  from  venturing  within  the  hostile  city.  "  You 
will  be  another  Huss!"  they  exclaimed.(')     They  suggested 


(*)  Walch,  xxiv.,  p.  459.      Audiu,  ii.,  p.  101,  and  Miclielet,  cbiefly  follow 
Walcb. 


92  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

the  subtle  cruelty  of  the  Italians  and  the  implacable  enmity 
of  the  priests.  But  Luther  seemed  urged  on  by  an  irresistible 
impulse  to  go  to  Worms  and  plead  his  cause  before  the  em- 
peror, the  princes,  Europe,  and  all  coming  ages.  "  I  would 
go,"  he  cried,  "  though  my  enemies  had  raised  a  wall  of  tire 
between  Eisenach  and  Worms  reaching  to  the  skies !"  "  I  will 
be  there,"  he  said  again,  "  though  as  many  demons  surround 
me  as  there  are  tiles  on  the  roofs  of  the  houses !"  In  his 
rapt,  half -in  spired  state  he  believed  that  Satan  and  his  angels 
had  encompassed  him  on  every  side,  and  that  their  chief  object 
was  to  prevent  his  reaching  the  city.  It  is  certain  that  all 
the  evil  passions,  every  corrupt  desire,  every  immoral  impulse 
of  the  age,  hung  like  raging  demons  over  the  path  of  the  re- 
former.(^) 

Never  was  there  a  more  memorable  journey  than  that  of 
Luther  over  the  heart  of  Germany,  from  Wittenberg  to 
Worms.  It  was  Daniel  going  to  the  lions'  den  ;  it  was  a  hero 
traveling  to  his  doom ;  it  was  the  successful  champion  of 
many  an  intellectual  tournament  couching  his  gallant  lance 
against  the  citadel  of  his  foes.  It  was  spring,  and  the  early 
leaves  and  flowers  were  clustering  around  the  pleasant  paths 
of  Germany.  Sturm,  the  emperor's  herald,  appeared  at 
Wittenberg,  and  said,  "  Master  Luther,  are  you  ready  ?"  The 
monk  assented  cheerfully,  and  at  once  set  out.  He  traveled 
in  a  very  different  way  from  that  in  which  he  had  entered 
Augsburg  two  years  before,  begging  his  subsistence  from 
town  to  town.  Now  he  was  the  renowned  champion  of  a 
new  Germany  ;  the  harbinger  of  a  brighter  era.  The  herald, 
clothed  in  gay  attire,  rode  before  him.  Luther  followed  in  a 
low  wagon  or  chariot,  accompanied  by  several  friends.  By 
his  side  was  the  learned  doctor  of  laws,  Schurf,  his  legal 
adviser,  and  several  theologians.  As  he  passed  the  popula- 
tion of  the  cities  came  out  to  meet  him ;  princes  and  nobles 
greeted  liim  on  every  hand,  and  pressed  money  upon  him  to 

(')  Walch,  xxiv.,  p.  4G0:  "Seine  gute  Freunde  riethen   ibm  vou  der 
Ersclieinnug  ab  uud  stellen  ilim  Hussens  Exempel  vor." 
(')  Walcb,xxiv.,  p.  462. 


LUTHEE'S  HYMX.  93 

pay  Ms  extraordinary  expenses ;  even  hostile  Leipsie  offered 
him  as  a  pledge  of  hospitality  a  draught  of  rare  wine ;  at 
"Weimar  the  good  duke  forced  gold  upon  him;  at  various 
places  he  was  forced  to  preach  before  immense  congregations. 
Yet  in  every  city  he  saw  posted  in  the  public  streets  the  bull 
condemning  his  writings  to  the  flames.  He  paused  a  while 
at  Erfurth,  and  wept  as  he  revisited  his  little  cell,  with  its 
solitary  table  and  small  garden,  and  remembered  the  wild  July 
morning  when  the  angry  lightning-flash  had  won  him  from 
the  world. (')  He  passed  through  Eisenach,  was  taken  very 
ill  there,  and  had  nearly  died  in  the  town  where,  a  beggar- 
child,  thirty  years  before,  he  sung  his  mournful  melodies  from 
door  to  door.  He  saw  his  relatives  from  Mansfeld,  his  peas- 
ant family,  and  parted  in  tears  from  the  well-known  scenes. 
And  thus,  as  if  to  prepare  him  for  his  doom,  or  to  arm  him 
for  the  fight,  in  this  memorable  journey,  Luther's  vivid  mind 
must  have  pictured  to  itself  a  perfect  outline  of  his  by-gone 
life. 

On  the  16th  of  April  Luther  saw  in  the  distance  the  towers 
of  Worms.  The  fiery  furnace  lay  before  him.(^)  He  firmly 
believed  that  he  was  going  to  his  death,  but  his  only  fear  was 
that  his  cause  might  perish  with  him.  Tradition  relates  that, 
as  he  saw  the  city  afar  off,  Luther  rose  up  in  his  chariot  and 
sung,  in  a  resonant  voice,  a  noble  hymn  which  he  had  com- 
posed on  the  way,  "  God,  our  strong  tower  and  defense,  our 
help  in  every  need."  It  is  a  poetical  thought ;  it  stirs  the 
fancy  as  we  narrate  it.  The  venerable  city  of  "Worms  was 
now  thronged  with  all  the  great  and  powerful  of  Germany : 
the  emperor,  the  bishops,  the  papal  legate,  the  princes,  and  a 
host  of  armed  men,  citizens,  and  priests.  As  the  monk  ap- 
proached in  his  wagon,  he  was  met  by  a  wild  enthusiasm 
greater  than  ever  princes  or  bishops  liad  awakened.  He  was 
surrounded  by  throngs  of  people ;  the  roofs  of  the  houses 
were  covered  with  eager  spectators ;  his  pale,  worn  counte- 
nance must  have  been  brightened  by  a  sentiment  of  gratitude 

(')  Audin,  ii.,  p.  101-105.  He  "  railed  at  monks  and  priests  on  his  way," 
says  Audin.  (")  WalcL,  xxiv.,  p.  463. 


94  LEO  AND  LUTHEE. 

and  triumph  as  lie  felt  that  the  people  were  his  frieiicls.(')    lie 
was  taken  to  the  lodgings  prepared  for  him  by  the  careful 
Elector  Frederick ;  but  even  there  he  could  have  found  little 
repose  from  the  constant  throng  of  visitors  of  high  rank  who 
pressed  in  to  see  him  and  cheer  him  with  encouraging  words. 
The  next  day,  toward  evening,  the  setting  sun  flashed  his 
last  rays  through  the  great  hall  at  Worms  over  an  assemblage 
of  the  Emperor  and  princes  of  Germany.     On  a  throne  of 
state,  clothed  in  regal  robes,  a  collar  of  pearls  around  his  neck, 
the  insignia  of  the  Golden  Fleece  glittering  on  his  breast,  sat 
the  youthful  and  impassive  Charles.     Every  eye  in  the  splen- 
did assembly  had  been  turned  with  eager  interest  to  his  grave, 
young  face,  for  to  his  narrow  intellect  was  committed  the  de- 
cision of  a  cause  that  involved  the  destiny  of  ages.     On  his 
right  sat  a  dignified  array  of  the  electoral  bishops  of  the  em- 
pire.(^)     Each  was  a  lesser  pope,  a  spiritual  and  temporal  lord, 
the  firm  opponent  of  heresy,  the  persecutor  of  the  just.     The 
bishops  in  gorgeous  attire,  their  red  and  blue  robes  bordered 
with  ermine,  with  all  the  imposing  decorations  of  their  order, 
assumed  the  highest  places  next  to  their  imperial  lord.     On 
the  left  hand  of  the  emperor  the  temporal  electors,  mighty 
warriors,  and  imperious  rulers  had  their  seat.     They,  too,  wore 
robes  bordered  with  ermine,  and  glittered  with  diamonds  and 
rubies  ;  but  the  lustre  of  their  almost  regal  power  and  ancient 
state  was  more  imposing  than  any  external  pomp.     Among 
them  was  seen  the  calm,  firm  countenance  of  Frederick,  Elect- 
or of  Saxony.     On  lower  seats  were  gathered  six  hundred 
princes,  lords,  and  prelates.     There  were  fierce  Dominicans 
from  Spain,  with  dark,  menacing  eyes,  the  sworn  extii-pators 
of  heresy.(')     There  were  brave  German  knights,  renowned 
for  valiant  or  cruel  deeds,  seamed  with  the  scars  of  battle. 
There  were  jurisconsults   in    black ;  monks   with   cowl  and 

C)  Walch,  xxiv.,  p.  463 ;  xv.,  p.  2192.  Luther's  own  account  of  his  jour- 
ney. 

C)  See  list  of  persons  at  the  Diet.     Walch,  xv.,  p.  2227. 

(')  The  Spaniards  always  boasted  that  there  was  no  heretic  in  all  Spain. 
See  Muerte  de  Diaz,  Reformistas  Antiq.  Esp.,  vol.  xx.  "WTieu  Alfonso  Diaz 
assassinated  his  heretic  brother,  his  countrymen  approved  the  act. 


THE  DIET  OF  WORMS.  95 

shaven  heads ;  abbots,  orators,  and  priests.  There  a  vast  as- 
sembly of  all  whom  Germany  had  been  accnstomed  to  fear 
and  to  obey  awaited  in  stern  expectation  the  approach  of  an 
excommunicated  monk.  But  the  spectacle  without  was  far 
more  imposing;  it  was  a  triumph  of  the  mind.  Every  roof, 
tower,  or  convenient  place  was  covered  with  people  waiting  to 
see  Luther  pass.  A  great  multitude  had  gathered  to  devour  with 
eager  eyes  the  form  and  features  of  one  whose  humble  brow  and 
shaven  head  were  made  illustrious  by  the  coronal  of  genius. 

So  dense  was  the  throng  that  Luther  was  obliged  to  go 
through  gardens  and  private  ways  in  order  to  reach  the  Diet. 
As  he  entered  the  magnificent  assembly,  he  heard  friendly 
voices  on  all  sides  bidding  him  godspeed.  He  pA'essed 
through  the  crowd ;  he  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  emperor. 
Every  eye  was  turned  away  from  Charles  and  fixed  upon  the 
humble  monk ;  he  seemed  confused  by  the  scrutiny  of  the 
princely  multitude,  and  his  voice,  when  the  proceedings  began, 
was  faint  and  low.  Little  was  done  at  the  first  meeting; 
Luther  was  required  to  admit  that  he  was  the  author  of  the 
writings  published  under  his  name,  and  to  recant  his  heresies. 
By  the  advice  of  his  counsel,  Schurf,  he  asked  for  time  to  re- 
ply to  the  demand.  The  assembly  broke  up,  to  meet  again 
the  next  day ;  and  the  emperor,  deceived  by  Luther's  modest 
bearing,  said  to  his  attendants,  "  That  man  will  never  make 
me  a  heretic."  In  his  old  age,  Charles  V.  was  suspected  of 
having  adopted  the  opinions  of  the  reformer  whom  in  his 
youth  he  had  despised.  That  evening  Luther's  room  was 
again  filled  with  princes  and  nobles,  who  came  to  press  his 
hand  and  congratulate  him  upon  his  courageous  bearing.  He 
passed  the  night  in  prayer,  and  sometimes  was  heard  playing 
upon  a  lute.  But  the  next  afternoon,  about  six  o'clock,  when 
torches  had  been  lighted  in  the  great  hall  and  flashed  upon 
the  glittering  jewels  and  stern  countenances  of  the  assembled 
diet,  Lutlier  arose,  in  the  conscious  pride  of  commanding  elo- 
quence and  a  just  cause,  to  defend  the  Eeformation.  He  was 
assailed  and  interrupted  by  the  constant  assaults  of  his  oppo- 
nent ;  he  replied  to  every  charge  with  vigor  and  acuteuess ;  he 
spoke  with  a  full  flow  of  language,  whether  in  German  or  Lat- 


96  LEO  AND  LUTHER. 

in.(')  "Martin  Luther,"  said  the  imperial  counselor,  "yester- 
day you  acknowledged  the  authorship  of  these  books.  Do  you 
now  retract  or  disown  them  ?"  Luther  fixed  his  inspired  eyes 
upon  the  emperor  and  the  long  array  of  dignitaries  around 
him,  and  replied  :(°)  "  Most  serene  emperor,  illustrious  princes, 
most  clement  lords,  I  claim  your  benevolence.  If  in  my  re- 
ply I  do  not  use  the  just  ceremonial  of  a  court,  pardon  me, 
for  I  am  not  familiar  with  its  usages.  I  am  but  a  poor  monk, 
a  child  of  the  cell,  and  I  have  labored  only  for  the  glory  of 
God."  For  two  hours  he  spoke  upon  conscience  and  its  priv- 
ileges, of  its  superiority  to  the  claims  of  popes  or  councils,  of 
the  right  of  private  judgment,  of  the  supremacy  of  the  Script- 
ures. The  assembly  listened  with  eager  interest  to  his  won- 
derful voice  as  it  rose  and  fell  in  natural  cadences,  reflecting 
the  varied  novelty  of  his  thoughts.  The  honest  German 
princes  heard  with  pride  and  joy  an  eloquence  which  they 
could  scarcely  understand.  Erick  of  Brunswick  sent  him  a 
tankard  of  wine  through  the  press  of  the  crowd.(')  "  How 
well  did  our  Doctor  Luther  speak  to-day  !"  said  the  calm  Elect- 
or Frederick,  in  a  moment  of  unusual  enthusiasm.  But  to 
the  emperor  and  his  papal  followers  Luther  had  spoken  in 
vain.  They  said  the  monk  was  imbecile ;  they  did  not  know 
what  he  meant  when  he  appealed  to  conscience  and  the  right 
of  private  judgment.  Meantime  the  torches  were  burning 
low  in  the  great  hall,  and  night  gathered  around  the  assembly. 
Luther's  enemies  pressed  upon  him  w^ith  new  violence ;  they 
commanded  him  to  retract  his  heresies  in  the  name  of  the 
Pope  and  the  Church ;  they  threatened  him  with  the  punish- 
ment of  the  heretic.  Then  the  reformer,  once  more  confront- 
ing tlie  hostile  emperor,  the  persecuting  bishops,  the  frowning 
Spaniards,  and  the  papal  priests,  said,  in  a  bold  and  resonant 
voice :  "  Unless,  your  majesty,  I  am  convinced  by  the  plain 
words  of  the  Scriptures,  I  can  retract  nothing.  God  be  my 
help.     Here  I  take  my  stand."(^) 

C)  Walch,  XV.,  p.  2231.  (")  Id. 

C)  Audin,  ii.,  p.  129.    Ranke,  Ref.,  i.,  p.  538. 

C)  Ranke,  Ref.,  i.,  p.  536.     I  trauslate  the  mcauiiig  ratlier  than  the  exact 
words. 


LUTHER  COXDEMXED.  97 

It  "U'as  the  voice  of  awakening  reason ;  the  bugle  -  note  of 
modern  reform.  Never  since  the  days  of  the  martyrs  and 
the  apostles  had  that  noble  somid  been  heard.  Never  had 
the  right  of  private  judgment  been  so  generously  asserted; 
never  had  the  apostolic  doctrine  of  conscience  been  so  dis- 
tinctly proclaimed.  Luther's  bold  vrords  have  since  that  time 
been  ever  on  the  lips  of  good,  great  men.  Latimer  and  Cran- 
mer  repeated  them  in  the  midst  of  the  flames.  Hampden 
and  Sidney  followed  in  his  path.  The  freemen  of  Holland 
and  America  caught  the  brave  idea.  The  countless  victims 
of  the  Inquisition,  the  martyred  foes  of  tyranny,  the  men  who 
died  for  human  liberty  at  Gettysburg  or  Bmiker  Hill,  a  War- 
ren or  a  Lincoln,  have  said  in  their  hearts  as  they  resolved 
on  their  path  of  duty,  "  God  be  my  help.  Here  I  take  my 
stand." 

Luther  left  the  assembly,  resolved  never  to  enter  it  again. 
He  was  now  in  great  danger  of  his  life.  The  Spaniards  had 
hissed  him  as  he  left  the  diet ;  he  heard  that  the  papal  agents 
were  urging  the  emperor  to  violate  his  safe -conduct  and  try 
him  for  his  heresy.  Nor  would  Charles  have  hesitated  a  mo- 
ment to  destroy  the  reformer  and  gratify  the  Pope,  had  he  not 
been  held  in  check  by  the  menacing  array  of  German  princes 
and  knights.  They,  at  least,  felt  that  it  was  Germany,  not 
Luther,  that  had  been  on  trial  at  the  Diet  of  Worms.  They 
declared  that  if  the  reformer  were  burned,  all  the  German 
princes  must  be  burned  with  him.  (')  The  knights  and  the 
peasants  fonned  a  secret  league  to  defend  Luther;  and  the 
emperor  and  his  courtiers  trembled  in  the  midst  of  the  ex- 
cited throng.  He  was  suffered  to  leave  the  city  unharmed. 
A  sentence  of  condemnation,  however,  was  forced  through  the 
assembly ;  he  was  placed  under  the  ban  of  the  empire,  togeth- 
er with  all  his  friends  and  adlierents ;  his  works  ordered  to 
be  burned ;  and  a  severe  censorship  of  the  press  was  estab- 
lished, to  prevent  the  publication  in  future  of  any  heretical 
writings.  But  Luther  was  now  hidden  in  his  Patmos,  con- 
cealed from  friends  and  ioes.{')     As  he  was  traveling  cheer- 

C)  Ranke,  Kef.,  i.,  p.  538.  C)  Walcb,  xv.,  p.  2327. 


98  LEO  AND   LUTHER. 

fully  toward  Wittenberg,  defiant  of  both  emperor  and  Pope, 
in  a  thick  wood  near  Eisenach,  he  was  set  upon  by  a  band  of 
armed  men  with  visors  down,  who  carried  him  away  to  the 
grim  castle  of  "Wartburg,  where  he  remained  in  a  friendly  im- 
prisonment until  the  danger  was  over.  It  was  a  prudent  de- 
vice of  the  sagacious  Elector  Frederick. 

Once  more,  in  December,  1521,  Rome  rejoiced  over  the 
death  of  a  Pope ;  once  more  the  Cardinal  Camerlengo  had 
risen  from  his  bended  knees  to  proclaim  the  certainty  of  the 
event.  Again  the  great  bell  on  the  Capitol  tolled  heavily, 
and  riot  and  disorder  reigned  in  the  sacred  city.  Leo  was 
dead.  An  inscrutable  mystery  hangs  over  the  last  days  of 
his  life,  and  it  is  still  in  doubt  whether  the  poisonous  draught 
which  his  cardinals  had  prepared  for  him  in  the  opening  of 
liis  reign  did  not  hnally  reach  his  lips.  His  people,  impover- 
ished by  his  excesses,  exulted  in  his  death.  "  Oh,  Leo,"  they 
cried,  "  you  came  in  like  a  fox ;  you  ruled  like  a  lion ;  you 
died  hke  a  dog !"  Posterity  has  been  more  favorable  to  his 
memory,  and  men  of  intellect  have  ever  looked  with  sympa- 
thy upon  that  graceful  pontiff  who  was  the  friend  of  Erasmus 
and  Eaffaello,  and  who,  if  he  had  lived  in  a  less  corrupt  at- 
mosphere, might  have  yielded  to  the  reforms  of  Luther.  But 
the  Golden  Age  of  Leo  X.  is  chiefly  memorable  as  the  peri- 
od when  the  magnificent  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages  began 
swiftly  to  wane  before  the  rising  vigor  of  the  Chm'ch  of  the 
Reformation. 


LOYOLA  AND  TEE  JESUTTS. 

A  Spanish  cavalier,  who  was  gallantly  defending  Pampeliina 
against  the  French,  fell  wounded  in  both  legs  by  a  cannon- 
shot.  In  one  he  was  struck  by  the  ball,  in  the  other  by  a 
splinter  of  stone,  and  his  agonizing  wounds  were  destined  to 
be  felt,  in  their  consequences,  like  the  concussions  of  an  earth- 
quake shock,  in  every  part  of  the  earth.(')  They  were  the 
cause  of  many  an  auto-da-fe  in  Italy,  and  of  a  persecution 
worse  than  that  of  Diocletian  in  Spain.  They  aided  in  rousing 
the  Netherlands  to  revolt,  and  in  awakening  the  patient  Hol- 
landers to  heroic  deeds.  They  made  Holland  free.  They 
created  the  wonderful  Dutch  navy  that  swept  the  Spaniards 
from  the  seas,  and  made  the  East  India  trade  retreat  from 
Lisbon  to  Amsterdam.  They  led  to  the  massacre  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew, the  death  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  the  Spanish 
Armada,  the  Gunpowder  Plot.  They  disturbed  the  jSTew 
World,  gave  rise  to  many  deeds  of  self-denial  and  piety,  and 
many  horrible  crimes  and  woes.  They  were  felt  in  distant 
Russia.  They  aroused  the  Poles  against  the  Russians,  and  ex- 
cited a  fierce  war  in  which  Poland  inflicted  injuries  upon  its 
feeble  neighbors  that  have  scarcely  yet  been  expiated  in  seas 
of  blood.  They  spread  their  fatal  influence  over  China,  and 
stirred  that  vast  empire  with  a  violent  impulse.  They  were 
felt  in  Ethiopia  and  Hindostan,  in  Canada  and  Brazil ;  they 
gave  rise,  in  fact,  to  the  company  of  the  Jesuits. 

The  wounded  cavalier  was  Ignatius  Loyola.  He  was  a 
brave  Spanish  nobleman,  descended  from  a  house  of  the  high- 
est rank,  and  his  youth  had  been  passed  at  the  court  of  Ferdi- 
nand the  Catholic,  in  the  society  of  the  proudest  grandees  of 

(')  Maffreus,  Ignati  Vita,  i.,  p.  2.  Rauke,  Hist.  Popes,  i.,  p.  56.  Cr^ti- 
ueau-Joly,  Hist,  Comp.  de  J6sus,  i.,  p.  14. 


100  LOYOLA  AND  THE  JESUITS. 

Spam.(')  His  literary  education  seems  to  have  been  neglect- 
ed. At  thirty-three  he  could  do  little  more  than  read  and 
write.  But  he  vras  no  doubt  familiar  with  all  courtly  exer- 
cises. He  was  a  graceful  page,  a  gallant  cavalier.  His  dress 
was  splendid,  his  armor  rich  with  gems  and  gold ;  and  al- 
though he  was  the  youngest  of  thirteen  childi-en,  he  seems  to 
have  possessed  sufficient  wealth  to  live  in  elegance  and  ease. ' 
At  his  ancestral  castle  of  Loyola,  not  far  from  the  Pyrenees, 
or  at  the  court  of  the  Catholic  King,  the  young  noble  had  been 
trained  in  the  school  of  St.  Dominic,  and  in  the  most  rigid 
rides  of  loyalty  and  faith.  He  had  a  becoming  horror  of  her- 
esy and  freedom.  He  seems,  however,  to  have  been  a  dutiful 
son,  an  affectionate  brother ;  and  although  his  youth  may  have 
been  marked  by  some  trace  of  the  gay  license  of  the  age,  yet 
he  lived  in  comparative  purity.  As  became  a  grandee  of 
Spain,  he  was  a  soldier.  He  entered  the  army  of  Charles  Y. 
and  fought  bravely  in  defense  of  his  native  land,  and  the  un- 
cultivated but  ardent  noble  was  always  in  the  front  of  danger. 
If  the  literary  element  was  wanting  to  his  nature,  Loyola 
still  possessed  a  vigorous  and  fertile  fancy.  He  was  never 
weary  of  reading  "Amadis  de  Gaul,"  or  the  massive  ro- 
mances that  fed  the  imagination  of  his  chivalrous  age.  His 
mind  was  full  of  the  impossible  feats  of  knighthood,  of  con- 
quests in  pagan  lands,  and  the  triumphs  of  the  crusaders  and 
of  the  Cross.  His  strong  ambition  had  been  fired  by  the  fa- 
bled deeds  of  chivalry ;  he  longed,  no  doubt,  to  become  as  fa- 
mous as  Amadis,  and  to  crush  the  hated  infidel  like  the  pala- 
dins of  Charlemagne.  He  had  already  chosen  as  his  mistress 
a  fair  princess,  whose  colors,  with  true  chivalric  devotion,  he 
was  pledged  to  uphold  in  tilt  or  tom'nament ;  and  although 
his  suit  does  not  seem  to  have  prospered,  for  he  was  a  bach- 
elor of  thirty-one,  yet  he  was  full  of  love  as  well  as  of  ambi- 
tion. In  person  he  was  of  middle  stature,  strong,  and  well- 
formed  ;  his  complexion  was  a  deep  olive ;  his  nose  aquiline, 
his  eyes  dark  and  flashing  ;{^)  and  his  imperious  will  had  been 

(')  Mafffens,  i.,  p.  1.    Daurignac,  i.,  p.  40,  who  abridges  Cr6tineau-Joly. 
O  Maffoeus,  iii.,  p.  14 :  "  Statura  fuit  modica."    He  was  born  1491. 


LOYOLA'S    WOUXDS.  101 

fostered  in  the  labors  of  a  military  life.  He  was  no  doubt 
a  strict  disciplinarian,  and  had  learned  to  drill  his  native  sol- 
diery with  the  same  precision  with  ^hlcli  h6  afterwar*^'  organ- 
ized his  priestly  legions.  And  thus,, glowing  with  those  chiv- 
alric  fancies  which  Cervantes  -^gg  not 'long  "aftfer -to  dissipate 
with  inextinguishable  ridicule,  the  brave  soldier  threw  himself 
into  Pampeluna  (1521),  and  made  a  hopeless  resistance  to  the 
French  invaders.  The  fortress  fell,  the  wounded  Loyola  was 
taken  prisoner ;  but  his  conqueror,  Andre  de  Foix,  treated  him 
with  almost  fraternal  care,  set  him  free,  and  had  him  carried 
tenderly  to  his  home,  which  was  not  far  from  Pampeluna. 

Here,  surrounded  by  his  family  and  attended  by  skillful 
surgeons,  he  slowly  recovered  from  his  wounds.  Yet  his  suf- 
ferings must  have  been  terrible.  He  underwent  a  severe  sur- 
gical operation  with  singular  resolution.  A  piece  of  bone 
projecting  from  his  knee  was  sawed  ofi  without  calling  forth 
a  groan.  He  became  almost  a  cripple ;  he  saw,  perhaps  with 
a  mental  agony  deeper  than  the  physical,  that  he  could  no 
longer  hope  to  shine  in  the  tournament  or  the  courtly  revel, 
or  awaken  by  his  grace  and  dexterity  the  admiration  of  his  be- 
loved princess.  As  he  grew  better,  his  love  for  romances  re- 
turned. He  asked  his  brothers  to  bring  him  some  of  his  fa- 
vorite authors.  They  brought  him  instead,  as  more  appropri- 
ate, perhaps,  to  his  condition,  a  "  Life  of  Christ,"  and  some 
lives  of  the  saints.  Pain,  suffering,  and  disappointment  had 
subdued  Loyola's  proud  spirit ;  the  world  had  grown  cold  and 
dark ;  but  his  ardent  fancy  now  found  a  new  field  of  enjoy- 
ment and  consolation.  The  tales  of  I'eligious  heroism,  of 
boimdless  humility,  of  divine  labor  in  the  cause  of  faith,  led 
him  away  from  the  dreams  of  chivalry  to  an  object  still  no- 
bler and  more  entrancing.  Alwaj's  an  ardent  entliusiast,  ea- 
ger to  emulate  the  examples  of  eminent  men,  a  fond  follower 
of  renown,  he  now  began  to  believe  himself  destined  to  a  life 
of  holy  warfare.  "  Why  can  not  I  do  what  St.  Dominic  did  ?" 
he  exclaimed.  "Why  can  not  I  be  as  St.  Francis  was?"(') 
The  uncultivated  but  chivalrous  soldier,  shut  up  in  his  sick- 


ed) MaffiEU8,i.,p.2. 


102  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

room,  or  slowly  creeping  along  the  sunny  paths  of  Biscay, 
meditated  with  characteri&tic  ardor  on  his  project  of  a  spirit- 
ual life  •  He  would  abandon  the  world  and  all  its  allurements, 
would  fly  from  riches,  powb?',  and  pride ;  instead  of  his  fair 
princess', ife' would  have  for  his  mistress  a  heavenly  queen ;  in- 
stead of  an  earthly  tournament,  he  would  shine  in  a  spiritual 
warfare.(')  His  bride,  like  that  of  St.  Francis,  should  be  pov- 
erty. His  enemies,  like  those  of  St.  Dominie,  heretics  and 
devils.  He  would  become  a  beggar  and  an  outcast,  the  com- 
panion of  lepers;  he  would  clothe  himself  in  rags,  and  go 
forth,  like  St.  Francis  and  St.  Dominic,  to  do  battle  for  the 
Queen  of  Heaven. 

It  had  ever  been  the  custom  for  the  true  knight- errant,  as 
we  read  in  "  Don  Quixote  "  and  the  books  of  chivalry,  to  de- 
vote himself  by  a  solemn  vigil  before  some  holy  shrine  to  his 
appointed  work.  In  May,  1522,  a  richly  dressed  cavalier,  clad 
in  shining  armor,  appeared  before  the  Benedictine  monastery 
of  Mont  Serrat  in  Catalonia,  and  asked  hospitality  from  the 
holy  monks.('')  He  was  taken  to  a  cell,  and  when  they  in- 
quired his  name,  said  he  would  be  called  "  The  Unknown  Pil- 
grim." Three  days  he  passed  in  making  a  general  confes- 
sion of  all  his  sins.  Thus  purified,  he  left  the  monastery  un- 
observed ;  and  having  called  to  him  a  beggar  from  the  high- 
way, gave  him  his  rich  dress,  and  in  exchange  clothed  himself 
in  the  beggar's  rags.(')  He  then  gave  away  all  his  money  to 
the  poor.  He  put  on  a  long,  gray  robe,  bound  by  a  thick  cord 
around  the  waist,  to  which  he  attached  his  glittering  sword  and 
jeweled  dagger,  and  thus  attired  fell  down  before  the  altar  of 
the  Holy  Virgin,  to  keep  his  solemn  vigil.  He  left  his  sword 
and  poniard  suspended  at  the  shrine,  and  vowed  thenceforth  to 
wear  alone  the  spiritual  arms  of  poverty  and  devotion.  Thus 
did  the  fanciful,  impassioned  Loyola  fulfill  the  rites  of  chival- 
ry and  faith. 

He  was  next  seen  wandering  through  the  streets  of  Man- 
reza,  a  little  village  near  Mont  Serrat,  so  sordid  in  his  dress, 

(')  Ranke,  Hist.  Popes,  i.,  p.  67.  C)  Maffeus,  i.,  pp.  3, 4. 

(')  Pannoso  cuidam  ex  iuftma  plebe. 


LOYOLA   A   BEGGAB.  103 

SO  wild  and  haggard  in  appearance,  that  children  mocked  him, 
and  men  shrunk  from  him  as  from  a  madman.  His  compan- 
ions were  beggars  and  outcasts.  He  wasted  his  manly  strength 
in  fearful  penances  and  fasting,  that  brought  him  near  to  death. 
He  courted  contumely  and  shame.  His  chief  emploj^nent  was 
waiting  upon  the  diseased  poor,  and  performing  for  tliem  the 
most  repulsive  offices.  Like  St.  Francis,  whom  he  evidently 
followed  as  a  guide,  he  sought  to  abase  himself  to  the  lowest 
pitch  of  human  degradation.(')  He  lived  upon  alms;  he  sold 
all  his  possessions,  and  made  himself  a  penniless  beggar.  His 
home  was  a  dark  and  noisome  cave ;  and  here  he  composed 
his  "  Spiritual  Exercises,"  which  are  related  to  liave  had  a  won- 
derful effect  in  converting  his  disciples  and  founding  his  or- 
der. His  mind  was  now  oppressed  with  terrible  fancies ;  he 
believed  himself  forever  doomed ;  (')  he  was  surrounded  by 
demons  who  meditated  his  eternal  ruin ;  and  often  the  half- 
maddened  spirit  longed  for  death,  and  was  eager  to  find  rest 
in  suicide.  Yet  this  fearful  penance  and  this  condition  of 
wild  hallucination  have  had  their  place  in  false  religions  as 
well  as  the  true.  The  self-inflicted  tortures  of  Ignatius  and 
Francis  of  Assisi  have  often  been  far  outdone  by  the  Brah- 
man fanatics  or  Mohammedan  dervishes.  The  Brahman  im- 
pales himself  on  sharp  iron  hooks  or  flings  himself  beneath 
the  car  of  Juggernaut  to  expiate  imaginary  guilt ;  the  der- 
vish often  lives  in  squalid  poverty,  more  hideous  than  that 
of  Ignatius,  throughout  a  whole  life  -  time ;  and  the  follow- 
ers of  Boodh  have  invented  penances  that  excel  the  wild- 
est extravagances  of  the  modern  saint.  As  he  advanced  in 
knowledge,  Loyola  probably  grew  ashamed  of  his  early  ex- 
cesses, and  discovered  that  squalor,  fllth,  and  endless  fasting 
were  no  true  badges  of  a  religious  life.  He  learned  that  re- 
ligion was  designed  to  refine  and  purify  rather  than  to  debase 
human  nature. 

In  his  cave  at  Manreza  it  is  said  that  Loyola  first  conceived 

(')  Maffjens.  i.,p.  5. 

(*)  Maffieus,  i.,  p.  6.    His  hair  he  left  "  impexum  et  squalidum  ;"  his  nails 
grew  long ;  he  was  filthy.     Satan  came  and  tempted  him. 


104  LOYOLA  AND  THE  JESUITS. 

the  design  of  founding  liis  spiritnal  army.  He  saw  in  the 
heavens  a  vision  of  Babylon  lighting  against  Jerusalem,  of 
the  demons  of  pride,  wealth,  and  worldly  corruption  mar- 
shaling their  hosts  to  assail  the  sacred  city  of  humility ;  and 
he  resolved  to  place  himself  at  the  head  of  a  saintly  brother- 
hood and  fly  to  the  relief  of  the  Cross.  At  this  period  his 
ideas  were  few,  his  knowledge  limited.  His  education  had 
been  wholly  military,  and  it  is  curious  to  observe  how  the  tac- 
tics of  the  camp  and  the  siege  blended  almost  of  necessity 
with  the  speculations  of  the  uncultivated  visionary .(')  St. 
Francis  and  St.  Dominic,  who  had  been  bred  in  civil  life, 
were  content  with  repeating  in  their  institutions  the  monas- 
tic rules  of  Benedict  and  the  East.  They  strove  to  reform 
mankind  by  silent  asceticism,  physical  tortures,  or  touching 
appeals ;  by  the  eloquence  of  the  pulpit  or  of  a  meek  and 
holy  carriage.  But  Loyola,  who  was  a  soldier,  accustomed  to 
command,  and  conscious  of  the  necessity  of  subordination, 
mtroduced  into  his  society  the  strict  discipline  of  the  camp. 
As  his  plans  were  finally  unfolded,  the  Jesuits  became  a  com- 
pany ;  their  chief  was  called  their  general ;  a  perfect  military 
obedience  was  enforced ;  the  inferior  was  held  to  be  a  mere 
instrument  in  the  hands  of  his  superior ;  the  common  soldier 
of  the  great  spiritual  army  had  no  will,  hardly  a  conscience, 
but  that  of  his  general  at  Home.  And  thus,  when  the  dim 
vision  of  the  cave  of  Manreza  was  presented  to  the  world, 
its  chief  novelty  was  the  military  rule  of  obedience.  All 
other  virtues  were  held  to  be  M'ithout  value  unless  joined  to 
perfect  submission  to  the  will  of  another.  Like  a  well-train- 
ed soldier,  the  Jesuit  must  lirst  learn  to  obey.  If  he  failed  in 
this  quality,  the  novice  was  rejected,  the  professed  degraded, 
the  lesser  offenders  scourged,  sometimes  to  death. 

Thus,  of  the  few  ideas  that  Loyola  possessed  at  Manreza  he 
made  practical  use  chiefly  of  those  that  were  military ;  he  at 
least  taught  his  followers  obedience.^)     And  from  this  princi- 


(')  Constitutiones  Societatis  Jesu,  p.  53. 

C)  See  Ravignan,  De  I'Existeuco  et  do  I'lustitut  des  Jesuites,  i.,  p.  91. 
The  defense  is  feeble,  but  houest. 


TRE  STRENGTH  OF  JESUITISM.  105 

j)le  have  sprung  the  power  and  the  weakness,  the  mingled  good 
and  evil,  of  the  order  of  the  Jesuits.  In  obedience  to  the  or- 
ders of  an  irresponsible  head,  the  devoted  and  often  sincerely 
pious  priests  have  flung  themselves  boldly  into  savage  lands ; 
have  endured  pain,  misery,  and  want  with  heroic  zeal ;  have 
died  in  hosts  in  the  jungles  of  India  and  hostile  Ethiopian 
wilds ;  have  won  the  hearts  of  the  savages  of  Brazil  by  their 
tender  patience,  and  died  with  songs  of  holy  joy  amidst  horri- 
ble torments  in  Cliina  and  Japan.  Yet,  if  we  compare  all  the 
heroic  sufferings  of  the  Jesuits  in  the  cause  of  obedience  with 
those  of  the  countless  martyrs  who  have  died  for  religious  lib- 
erty in  the  dungeons  of  the  Holy  OfSce,  on  the  battle-iields  of 
Holland,  or  in  the  endless  cruelties  of  Romish  intolerance,  they 
seem  faint  and  insignificant ;  and  where  obedience  has  pro- 
duced one  martyr,  a  thousand  have  fallen  to  attest  their  belief 
in  Christianity.  But  if  we  turn  to  the  dangerous  side  of  obe- 
dience to  an  irresponsible  and  often  corrupt  head,  we  see  how 
fatal  was  that  weapon  which  the  imprudent  Loyola  placed  in 
the  hands  of  unscrupulous  churchmen.  The  unhappy  Jesuits, 
bound  by  their  oath  of  obedience,  were  soon  made  the  instru- 
ments of  enormous  crimes.  Their  activity  and  blind  devotion, 
their  intelligence  and  secrecy,  were  qualities  that  peculiarly  fit- 
ted them  to  become  the  emissaries  and  executioners  of  kings 
like  Philip  II.  or  popes  like  Caraffa.  It  is  believed  that  the 
Jesuits  were  chiefly  instrumental  in  producing  the  worst  per- 
secutions in  the  Netherlands.  A  Jesuit  plotted  with  Mary  of 
Scotland  the  assassination  of  Elizabeth.  Another  strove  to 
blow  up  James  I.  and  the  English  Parliament  with  gunpow- 
der. The  Jesuits  were  charged  with  being  constantly  on  the 
watch  to  assassinate  William  of  Orange  and  Henry  of  Na- 
varre. Anthony  Possevin,  a  Jesuit,  is  stated  by  Mouravieff, 
the  Church  historian  of  Russia,  to  have  taught  the  Polish  Cath- 
olics to  persecute  the  Greek  Christians,  and  to  have  plunged 
Russia  and  Poland  in  an  inexpiable  war.(')  Jesuits  were  con- 
stantly gliding  over  Europe  from  court  to  court,  engaged  in 
performing  the  mandates  of  popes  and  kings ;  and,  if  we  may 

C)  Mouravieff,  Hist.  Russian  Church,  p.  122,  traus. 


106  LOYOLA   AND   THE  JESUITS. 

trust  the  records  of  history,  the  fatal  vow  of  obedience  was 
often  employed  by  their  superiors  to  crush  the  instincts  of  hu- 
manity and  the  voice  of  conscience. 

From  his  cave  at  Manreza  Loyola  now  set  out  to  assail  her- 
esy and  corruption.  He  was  sincere,  ardent,  and  resolute ;  but 
the  champion  of  the  mediaeval  faith  soon  found  that  he  want- 
ed an  important  part  of  his  mental  armor.  Amidst  his  visions 
and  his  spiritual  exercises  he  had  already  discovered,  in  a  mo- 
ment of  natural  good  sense,  that  he  could  do  nothing  without 
knowledge.  The  age  was  learned  and  progressive.  The  re- 
formers of  Germany  and  Switzerland  were  men  of  profound 
acquirements  and  intense  application,  while  their  Spanish  op- 
ponent had  heretofore  done  little  more  than  dream.  We  next, 
tlierefore,  find  Loyola  at  Barcelona,  when  he  was  about  thir- 
ty-three years  of  age,  painfully  endeavoring  to  acquire  the  el- 
ements of  knowledge,  in  order  to  fit  himself  for  the  priesthood. 
He  was  forced  to  enter  the  lower  classes  of  the  college,  and 
was  condemned  by  his  superiors  to  at  least  four  years  of  pa- 
tient study.  But  he  was  already  widely  known  as  a  saint  and 
an  enthusiast.  He  had  already  wandered  to  Eome  and  to  Je- 
rusalem. The  stately  Spanish  clergy,  the  Dominican  or  Fran- 
ciscan, looked  with  suspicion  and  dislike  upon  tlie  wild  and 
haggard  visionary  who  consorted  only  with  the  miserable  poor, 
and  whose  intense  penances  and  self-chosen  penury  seemed  a 
reproach  to  their  o^vn  luxury  and  indifference.  Loyola  fell 
under  the  suspicion  of  the  Inquisition,  and  was  even  accused 
of  heresy ;  he  was  persecuted  and  derided ;  and,  almost  alone, 
a  faithful  and  tender-hearted  woman,  Isabella  Eosello,  watched 
over  his  necessities  and  saved  him  from  starving.  She  seems  to 
have  been  his  earliest  disciple.  She,  at  least,  believed  him  in- 
spired from  above,  and  saw,  in  moments  of  enthusiasm,  rays  of 
celestial  glory  playing  around  his  wan  brow.('}  And  long  aft- 
erward, when  Loyola  guided  the  affairs  of  the  Roman  Church, 
he  was  embarrassed  and  somewhat  annoyed  by  the  persistent 
devotion  of  Isabella,  who  wished  to  found  a  company  of  female 
Jesuits  under  the  supervision  of  the  great  chief  himself. 

(')  Maffaeus,  ii.,  p.  17. 


LUTHER  AND  LOYOLA.  107 

Luther  and  Loyola  were  contemporaries,  and  the  latter  the 
younger  by  eight  years.  Both  were  enthusiastic,  ardent  men, 
resolute  and  severe.  Both  had  gone  through  religious  expe- 
riences not  altogether  dissimilar;  had  struggled  with  doubt 
and  terror,  with  remorse  and  shame.  In  their  religious  trials 
they  fancied  that  they  saw  demons  and  spirits,  and  had  held 
frequent  contests  with  their  great  adversary.  Both  had  labor 
ed  for  purity  of  life,  and  had  attained  it.  Both  lived  as  far 
as  possible  above  the  allurements  of  the  present.  But  their 
differences  were  still  more  striking  than  their  resemblances. 
Luther  was  learned,  accomplished,  creative,  poetical.  He  had 
been  a  profound  student  of  the  Scrijjtures ;  he  had  marked  ev- 
ery line,  interpreted  every  thought ;  he  labored  night  and  day 
to  free  his  mind  from  the  vain  shadows  of  tradition,  and  to 
hear  and  attend  alone  to  the  voice  of  inspiration.  For  the 
teaching  of  man  he  cared  nothing ;  he  heard  only  the  apos- 
tles and  the  Divine  Preceptor ;  and  hence  Luther  had  imbibed 
much  of  the  benevolence  and  charity  of  the  earlier  Church. 
But  Loyola  was  ever  wrapped  up  in  visions  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  Unlearned  and  dogmatic,  he  saw  only  the  towering 
grandeur  of  Kome.  He  preferred  tradition  to  the  Scriptures, 
the  teaching  of  the  Pope  to  that  of  the  Bible.  One  article  of 
faith  seemed  to  him  alone  important  —  the  primacy  of  St. 
Peter.  One  text  alone  seemed  to  him  the  key  of  revelation ; 
one  doubtful  passage  the  only  source  of  Christian  life.  To 
the  primacy,  therefore,  Loyola  vowed  obedience  rather  than  to 
the  Scriptures ;  to  the  enemies  of  the  papacy  he  could  assign 
only  endless  destruction.  Hence,  while  Luther's  doctrines 
tended  to  benevolence  and  humanity,  those  of  his  assailant 
must  lead  to  persecution  and  war :  the  one  was  the  herald  of 
a  gentler  era,  the  other  strove  to  recall  the  harsh  traits  of  the 
days  of  Innocent  and  Ilildebrand. 

Driven  from  his  native  land  by  the  persecutions  of  the  rival 
clergy,  Loyola,  in  the  year  1528,  fled  to  Paris,  and  entered  its 
famous  university.  His  enthusiasm  was  somewhat  sobered  by 
time  or  knowledge ;  but  he  still  lived  upon  alms  and  with 
strict  austerity.  He  was  probably  a  diligent  if  not  a  very  suc- 
cessful student.     He  was  never  learned,  and  his  reading  was 


108  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

not  of  a  kind  likelj  to  improve  or  enlarge  his  faculties.  Com- 
pared with  his  eminent  Protestant  opponents,  his  knowledge 
was  narrow,  his  mental  powers  obtuse,  and  the  chief  source  of 
his  final  success  was  his  skill  in  organizing  his  followers  and 
the  controlling  influence  of  his  imperious  will.  But  at  Paris 
he  no  doubt  became  more  than  ever  convinced  of  the  power 
of  knowledge.  Thrown  amidst  a  busy  throng  of  students, 
priests,  professors,  many  of  whom  were  Lutherans,  or  who 
shared  in  the  advancing  spirit  of  the  age,  he  must  have  seen 
that  learning  was  chiefly  on  the  side  of  the  new  opinions,  and 
that  many  of  the  disasters  of  the  papal  hierarchy  were  due 
to  their  own  ignorance  or  indolence.  He  resolved,  with  his 
usual  vigor,  to  create  a  new  race  of  scholars,  whose  minds 
should  be  filled  with  the  rarest  stores  of  classic  letters,  but 
whose  faith  should  be  as  firm  and  unswerving  as  his  own. 
The  dull  soldier(')  was  to  give  rise  to  an  infinite  number  of 
schools,  colleges,  and  literary  institutions  whose  teachers  were 
to  shine  among  the  literary  glories  of  the  time,  but  who  in 
matters  of  faith  were  to  be  chained  and  imprisoned  by  the  fa- 
tal vow  of  obedience.  His  free  schools  were  to  be  the  chief 
agent  in  reviving  tlie  decaying  vigor  of  the  papacy.  The  chil- 
dren of  every  land  who  could  be  allured  to  tlie  Jesuit  schools 
were  to  be  molded  into  active  soldiers  in  his  spiritual  army. 
Every  Jesuit  was  to  obtain  freely  that  education  which  Loy- 
ola so  prized.  By  the  free  school  he  would  defeat  and  beat 
back  Protestantism. 

In  Paris  Loyola  grew  more  rational.  His  spiritual  agonies 
departed  forever.  Satan,  he  believed,  was  conquered,  and  he 
no  longer  meditated  suicide.  He  was  strong  in  the  faith  and 
in  the  certainty  of  success.(°)  His  penances  were  still  excess- 
ive, and  he  was  surrounded  by  visions  and  prodigies,  but  they 
were  all  of  a  more  hopeful  aspect.  But  what  was  equally  en- 
couraging, he  now  began  to  gather  around  him  converts  who 
were  to  form  the  germ  of  his  spiritual  army.  His  strong  will 
and  ardent  convictions  linked  to  him  like  a  fascinating  spell  a 

(')  Crdtineau-Joly,  i.,  p.  18,  tbiuks  be  read  raeu  better  tban  books. 
(')  Maflfajus,  i.,  p.  21.     He  already  persecuted  Lutberans. 


LOYOLA'S  DISCIPLES.  109 

band  of  gifted  young  men  who  acknowledged  him  as  their 
master.  The  first  was  Peter  Lefevre,  the  son  of  a  Savoyard 
goat-herd,  inteUigent  and  confiding.  With  him  came  finally 
his  friend,  Francis  Xavier,  a  brilliant  scholar,  who  at  first  had 
shrunk  almost  with  aversion  from  the  squalid  Loyola,  but  who 
became  at  length  the  most  devoted  of  his  followers.  Xavier 
was  rich,Q  nobly  born,  famous,  a  favorite  at  the  French  court, 
learned,  and  full  of  worldly  ambition ;  but  after  three  years  of 
sturdy  resistance  he  fell  captive  to  the  eloquent  example  of 
the  bold  enthusiast.  Several  Spaniards,  also,  joined  Loyola — 
James  Laynez,  Bobadilla,  Eodriguez,  and  others ;  and  at  last, 
in  August,  153-i,  the  young  men  met  together  in  a  subter- 
ranean chapel  in  Paris,  and  with  solemn  rites  and  holy  vows 
pledged  themselves  to  a  religious  life.  Their  design  was  to 
go  to  Jerusalem,  and  there  devote  themselves  to  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  Christian  pilgrims.  Loyola's  vision  of  Jerusalem, 
a  reminiscence  of  chivalry,  seems  not  yet  to  have  faded  from 
his  mind,  and  his  fancy  still  brooded  over  the  woes  of  the 
Holy  City. 

But  the  young  band  of  enthusiasts  were  never  destined  to 
reach  that  goal.  We  next  find  them  stopped  at  Venice,  and 
here  their  missionary  work  began.  The  gay,  rich  city,  luxuri- 
ous, licentious,  and  half  heretic,  was  suddenly  startled  by  the 
appearance  of  a  wild  and  haggard  band  of  reformers,  emaciated 
with  penances,  ragged,  and  consorting  with  the  wretched  poor, 
who  preached  in  the  highways  to  wondering  throngs,  and 
whose  imperfect  pronunciation  and  broken  language  were 
often  met  with  shouts  of  derision.  Yet  the  Spanish  mission- 
aries soon  won  attention  by  their  fierce  sincerity. Q  They 
taught  perfect  obedience  to  Home,  and  astonished  the  half -her- 
etic Italians  by  the  ardor  of  their  faith.  They  proclaimed 
themselves  the  soldiers  of  a  new  army  that  was  rising  to  de- 
stroy the  enemies  of  the  Church.  They  declared  pei^petual 
war  against  Lutheranism  and  ever}'  form  of  doubt :  Catholic 
Spain  was  once  more  m  arms  to  save  the  medifeval  Church. 
In  1538,  Loyola,  with  Laynez  and  Lefevre,  went  on  foot  to 

Q)  Maffteus,  i.,  p.  22.      (^)  Id.    Palmamque  martyrii  studiose  captareut. 


110  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

Home  to  procure  the  assent  of  the  Pope  to  his  new  order. 
On  his  way  he  entered  a  chapel  near  the  Holy  City  and  saw 
a  vision.  He  was  alone.  His  followers  stood  without.  The 
Saviour  descended ;  the  Holy  A^irgin  came  to  smile  upon  the 
impassioned  Loyola ;  a  glory  rested  upon  him ;  and  when  he 
came  from  the  little  chapel  his  followers  knew  by  his  shining 
countenance  that  Heaven  had  chosen  him  as  its  champion. 

There  are  moments  in  the  history  of  mankind  when  all 
seems  doubt  and  indecision ;  when  men  stand  around  amazed 
and  not  knowing  what  to  do ;  when  the  decision  of  a  single 
powerful  will  affects  the  destiny  of  ages.  Such  a  moment 
was  the  present.  Paul  III.  sat  upon  the  papal  throne.  He 
was  a  man  of  mild  disposition,  elegant,  refined.  He  had  been 
in  his  youth  the  friend  of  Leo  X.,  and  had  imbibed  the  grace- 
ful tastes,  the  genial  culture,  of  his  accomplished  predecessor. 
His  manners  were  pleasing,  his  life  somewhat  licentious,  but 
thus  far  cruelty  and  austerity  had  formed  no  part  of  his  relig- 
ious policy.  Under  his  pacific  sway  reform  had  made  rapid 
progress,  and  already  Italy  and  Rome  itself  were  swiftly  yield- 
ing to  the  purer  teachings  of  the  Protestflnt  divines.(')  Augus- 
tinian  monks  preached  in  the  very  heart  of  the  papal  dominions 
doctrines  that  differed  little  from  those  of  Luther  and  Zuin- 
glius.  In  Parma  or  Faenza  the  reformers  taught  as  openly 
and  as  successfully  as  in  Wittenberg  or  in  London.  Italy  was 
filled  with  heretics  to  the  papal  rule;  the  splendid  city  of 
Venice  was  very  nearly  won  over  to  the  new  principles  ;  per- 
secution for  opinion's  sake  was  scarcely  known,  and  a  hap- 
py tranquillity  prevailed  throughout  the  peninsula  that  gave 
liberty  to  thought  and  the  promise  of  unexampled  progress.(") 
Paul  III.  was  addicted  to  astrology,  and  Ijelieved  more  firm- 
ly in  the  decisions  of  the  stars  than  in  those  of  the  Church. 
Gentle  and  not  naturally  cruel,  had  he  possessed  prudent 
counselors  he  might  now  have  placed  himself  at  the  head  of 
the  reformers  of  Christendom,  or  at  least  have  merited  their 


(')  Father  Paul,  Con.  Trent,  i.,  p.  101 ;  Cr^tineau-Joly,  i.,  p.  31. 
(^)  Cr(^tiuean-Joly,  i.,  p.  35:    "La  crise  <ln  Protestautisme  ^tait,"  etc. 
"  It  was,"  lie  thinks,  "  the  most  dangerous  period." 


PAUL  III.  Ill 

forbearance.  He  seems  not  to  have  been  without  a  eon- 
science,  and  was  at  least  sensible  of  his  own  imperfections,  as 
well  as  of  the  corrupt  condition  of  his  Church.  He  even  re- 
solved to  reform  his  own  life.  He  made  some  advances  to- 
ward a  reconciliation  with  Luther,  which  the  reformer  repelled 
as  insincere;  and  Paul  now  looked  with  helpless  indifference 
upon  the  spread  of  Protestant  opinions  in  Italy,  and  was  per- 
haps not  altogether  certain  of  his  own  infallibility. 

But  the  moment  was  one  that  seemed  to  demand  immediate 
action.  Paul  stood  amidst  the  ruins  of  the  mediaeval  Church. 
More  than  half  its  ancient  domain  was  in  open  revolt.  En- 
gland had  thrown  off  its  supremacy,  and  Henry  YIII.  was  the 
head  of  a  rival  see.  Germany  and  the  Xorth  were  in  great 
part  lost.  France  was  filled  with  Protestants.  Even  Spain 
was  tainted ;  and  now  Italy  itself,  always  rebellious,  seemed 
about  to  join  the  ranks  of  the  reformed  kingdoms,  and  deny 
the  authority  of  the  Holy  See.  Two  methods  of  action  lay 
before  the  hesitating  pontiff.  He  might  either  attempt  to  re- 
gain his  supremacy  by  persecution,  war,  and  bloodshed ;  or  he 
might  win  back  the  revolted  nations  by  Christian  gentleness, 
by  a  holy  life  and  a  sincere  contrition.(')  Had  he  pursued 
the  latter  course,  what  endless  woes  would  have  been  pre- 
vented !  What  fearful  persecutions,  what  wild  religious  wars, 
what  a  long  scene  of  human  calamity !  He  might  have  re- 
strained the  cruel  arm  of  the  savage  Charles  Y.,  and  his  yet 
more  barbarous  son.  He  might  have  softened  the  brutal  Hen- 
ry YIIL,  and  won  the  respect  of  Protestants  in  every  land. 
There  would  have  been  no  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  no 
slaughter  of  the  just  in  Holland  and  the  Netherlands,  no 
Papal  Inquisition ;  and  the  Koman  Church  would  have  stood 
to-day  free  from  those  stains  of  blood-guiltiness  which  have 
made  it  in  the  past  a  reproach  and  a  horror  to  Christen- 
dom. 

But  Paul  had  no  prudent  advisers.  The  Holy  College  of 
Cardinals  seem  to  have  wanted  both  discretion  and  humanity ; 
while  at  this  decisive  moment  the  wild  and  haggard  Spanish 

(')  Father  Paul,  i.,  p.  69.    The  Poi)e  had  already  tried  to  reform  his  court. 


112  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

soldier,  Loyola,  wrapped  in  his  visions  and  filled  with  his  im- 
possible scheme  of  military  rule  and  perfect  obedience,  enter- 
ed Rome,  His  coming  probably  determined  the  future  fate 
of  mankind.  We  have  no  means,  indeed,  of  showing  how  far 
the  counsels  of  the  narrow  visionary  influenced  the  conduct 
of  Paul  III.  and  his  cardinals ;  but  we  know  that  the  Jesuits 
very  soon  became  the  favorite  advisers  and  instruments  of  the 
Pope,  that  they  were  his  most  trusted  adherents,  and  that 
Loyola's  theory  and  practice  of  perfect  obedience  to  the  Holy 
See  at  once  won  the  heart  of  Paul.  Accustomed  only  to  a 
general  insubordination,  surrounded  everywhere  by  clamorous 
reformers  and  Protestants  who  denied  his  authority,  the  pon- 
tiff no  doubt  heard  with  double  satisfaction  the  sincere  profes- 
sions of  his  new  champion.  By  the  year  15-10,  Loyola  and 
his  followers  were  supreme  at  Pome.(')  The  Pope  authorized 
the  formation  of  the  new  order,  approved  its  constitutions ; 
and,  in  154:1,  Ignatius,  reluctant  and  modest,  was  installed  as 
General  of  the  Company  of  the  Jesuits.  The  society  occu- 
pied a  house  in  the  Piazza  Morgana,  and  their  numbers  rapid- 
ly increased ;  they  preached  with  wild  fervor  in  the  churches 
and  public  squares ;  their  fierce  enthusiasm  subdued  the  minds 
of  the  Romans;  and  it  is  related  that  they  silenced  an  elo- 
quent rival  preacher,  an  Augustinian  monk,  by  having  him 
tried  and  condemned  for  heresy. 

The  future  policy  of  tlie  Roman  Church  was  now  decided 
upon.  It  was  death  to  the  heretic  and  the  reformer.  Paul 
no  longer  hesitated ;  and,  in  1542,  he  issued  his  bull  creating 
the  Papal  Inquisition.  Ko  similar  institution  had  ever  exist- 
ed. The  Spanish  Inquisition  had  been  comparatively  narrow 
in  its  influence;  the  Dominicans  had  long  ceased  to  torture 
German  heretics  at  will.  Persecution  had  for  many  years 
died  out,  and  the  doctrine  of  toleration  was  practically  ap- 
plied in  many  lauds.  But  now  an  Inquisition  was  suddenly 
erected  which  was  to  have  its  central  seat  at  Rome,  and  which 
was  to  extend  its  influence  wherever  the  papal  power  was 

(')  Cr^tiDcau-Joly,  i.,  p.  39 :  "La  bduddictiou  du  ciel  s'etendit  sur  les  tra- 


THE  EOMAN  INQUISITION.  113 

acknowleclged.(')  At  its  head  were  placed  six  cardinals,  who 
were  to  be  the  world's  inquisitors.  They  were  to  exercise  a 
special  supervision  over  Italy,  but  were  empowered  to  appoint 
inferior  agents  or  deputies  in  all  other  countries,  who  were  in- 
trusted with  authority  as  absolute  as  their  own.  The  Inquis- 
itors held  in  their  hands  the  power  of  life  and  death.  They 
were  directed  to  be  swift  and  decided  in  their  action.  No 
parley  was  to  be  held  with  the  heretic.  He  was  to  be  dis- 
patched at  once.  The  fatal  crime  of  honest  doubt  was  to  be 
punished  with  the  rack  and  the  stake.  Death  was  the  only 
punishment.  He  who  read  his  Bible  was  to  be  burned.  To 
read  or  study  the  Scriptures  was  the  deadliest  of  crimes.  To 
pray  in  secret,  to  preach,  to  meet  together  in  religious  assem- 
blies, to  doubt  the  virtue  of  relics  and  holy  sites,  to  question 
the  authority  of  the  Roman  Church,  to  discuss  religious  topics, 
even  to  tliink  heretical  thoughts,  were  all  held  deserving  of  im- 
mediate death.  The  Papal  Inquisition,  indeed,  was  a  declara- 
tion of  war,  murder,  extermination,  against  all  who  refused  to 
submit  to  the  spiritual  rule  of  the  Roman  Church :  it  was  the 
invention  of  a  malignant  demon  or  of  an  insane  fanatic. 

Caraffa  and  Toledo,  two  cardinals  of  the  Dominican  school, 
are  said  to  have  suggested  the  Inquisition  to  Paul  ;(^)  yet  it 
seems  to  have  been  the  natural  fruit  of  the  austere  lessons  of 
Loyola.  It  would  be  vain  to  command  obedience  without 
possessing  some  means  of  enforcing  it.  By  physical  terrors 
alone  could  the  belief  in  the  primacy  be  sustained ;  and  Loyo- 
la, who  had  already  aspired  to  a  perfect  tyranny  over  the  in- 
tellect, who  wished  to  crush  every  rising  doubt  and  bring  back 
his  age  to  an  implicit  faith  in  the  wildest  delusions  of  the 
mediaeval  Church,  could  hope  to  do  so  only  by  a  general  in- 
quisition. The  Jesuit  writers  claim  that  he  sustained  the  new 
measure  by  a  special  memorial,"  and  he  evidently  hailed  it 
with  a  fanatical  delight.  His  military  education  had  made 
him  familiar  with  bloodshed  and  violence ;  he  had  been  ac- 

(')  Ranke,  Hist.  Popes,  i.,  p.  74;  Bower,  Popes,  vii.,  p.  457.  Naples  re- 
pelled the  inquisitors. 

C)  Ranke,  i.,  p.  74.  '  (')  hi. 

8 


114  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

customed  to  inflict  death  for  the  slightest  infraction  of  disci- 
pline ;  and  he  believed  that  the  world  of  thought  might  be 
ruled  by  the  same  harsh  tyranny  with  which  he  had  once  gov- 
erned a  company  of  Spanish  soldiers.  A  stern  and  unsparing 
fanatic,  just  escaped  from  the  squalor  of  a  hermit's  cave,  de- 
spising all  that  w^as  pure  and  fair  in  life,  and  fed  on  visions, 
Loyola  rejoiced  in  the  blood  of  the  saints ;  and,  with  Caraffa 
and  Toledo,  his  willing  instruments,  labored  to  make  the 
Spanish  Inquisition  universal. 

The  Inquisitors  proceeded  at  once  to  their  fearful  work. 
Caraffa  and  Toledo,  who  were  at  the  head  of  the  six,  procured 
some  money  from  the  papal  treasury,  almost  its  last  resources, 
and  hired  a  suitable  house.  They  next  purchased  a  supply  of 
racks,  chains,  thumb-screws,  and  all  the  various  instruments  of 
torture.(')  As  economy  was  needful,  they  probably  began  in 
a  very  modest  way.  They  provided  fagots  and  pitch  or  sul- 
phur, yellow  robes  painted  with  demons,  ropes  and  chains  for 
the  flnal  catastrophe ;  and  soon  men  and  women  suspected  of 
holding  heretical  opinions  began  to  be  suddenly  missed  from 
the  streets  of  Rome.  They  had  been  seized  upon  by  the  as- 
sassins of  the  Holy  Office ;  they  would  never  be  seen  again 
until  they  came  forth  bound  and  gagged  to  be  laid  on  the 
fatal  pyre.  Very  soon,  while  Loyola  and  his  followers  were 
preaching  to  horror-stricken  throngs,  the  traditions  of  a  bar- 
barous past,  the  smoke  of  many  an  auto-da^e,  began  to  rise 
over  the  ruins  of  Rome.  The  favorite  scene  of  the  horrid 
rite  was  in  front  of  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria,  Here  once 
more,  as  in  the  days  of  Nero,  Christians  died  in  horrible  tor- 
ments to  gratify  a  worse  than  pagan  malice ;  and  the  pure 
and  the  good  often  fell  ready  and  joyous  victims  to  the  rage 
of  dissolute  and  savage  priests.  A  universal  horror  settled 
upon  Rome.  The  reformers  fled  in  crowds  to  Naples  or  the 
North,  or  else  concealed  themselves,  as  in  the  days  of  Diocle- 
tian, in  hideous  retreats.  The  Franciscans  were  silenced,  the 
Augustinians  overawed,  and  no  voice  was  heard  in  the  Ro- 
man churches  but  that  of  the  haggard  Jesuits  and  brutal  Do- 

(')  Raulcc,  Hist.  Popes,  Inquisition,  i.,  p.  74. 


THE  PAPAL  MASSACRES.  115 

minicans,  recounting  their  legends  and  celebrating  the  Mother 
of  God.C) 

The  massacres  were  repeated  and  enlarged  in  all  the  Italian 
cities.  Everywhere  the  roads  were  filled  with  terrified  throngs 
of  men,  women,  children,  who,  abandoning  home,  friends,  and 
property,  were  flying  for  safety  across  the  Alps.  Swift  in  pur- 
suit came  the  Inquisitors,  aided  by  the  papal  soldiery.  They 
were  charged  to  show  no  toleration  to  heretics,  especially  Cal- 
\anists.  Eminent  j)reacliers,  who  had  ventured  to  deviate  in 
the  slightest  degree  from  the  doctrine  enforced  by  Loyola  and 
his  followers,  were  the  peculiar  objects  of  vengeance.  Caelio, 
a  noted  reformer,  had  a  narrow  escape.  He  had  waited  until 
the  officers  came  to  seize  him,  but,  being  a  large  and  powerful 
man,  cut  his  way  with  a  knife  through  the  papal  guards,  and 
made  his  escape  over  the  Alps.  Every  city  was  filled  with 
terror,  and  the  rival  factions  added  to  the  horrors  of  civil 
strife  by  denouncing  their  enemies  to  the  Inquisition.  Ven- 
ice, rich,  populous,  and  luxurious,  was  filled  with  German  Lu- 
therans or  native  heretics,  who,  when  they  heard  of  the  fatal 
persecution,  hastened  to  make  their  way  out  of  Italy.  The 
roads  and  villages  of  Switzerland  and  Germany  were  soon 
beset  by  a  multitude  of  exiles;  the  rich  and  the  noble  suf- 
fered equally  with  the  poor  and  the  obscure.(')  Happy  fami- 
lies were  broken  up  and  scattered ;  the  rich  were  reduced  to 
penury ;  the  artisan  driven  from  his  factory,  the  farmer  from 
his  fields.  But  miserable  was  the  fate  of  those  who  could  not 
escape.  They  were  hurried  on  board  of  two  vessels  and  car- 
ried out  to  sea.  Here  a  plank  was  placed  from  one  ship  to 
the  other ;  the  Protestants  were  forced  upon  it,  and  then,  the 
vessels  being  driven  apart,  tiie  plank  fell  into  the  sea,  and  its 
hapless  occupants  sunk  with  it,  calling  to  their  Saviour  for  aid. 
It  was  said  that  no  Christian  could  die  in  his  bed  in  all  Italy. 
Meanwhile  the  Jesuit  missionaries  hastened  to  the  terrified 
cities,  preached  everywhere  with  triumphant  vigor,  and  Lay- 
nez,  Lef^vre,  and  Bobadilla  boasted  that  heresy  was  every- 
where extirpated  by  their  eloquence. 

C)  Rauke,  Inquisition,  i.,  p.  74.  (^)  '<l- 


116  LOYOLA  AXD  THE  JESUITS. 

It  is  painful,  but  useful,  to  review  these  scenes  of  human 
folly  and  crime ;  for  History  is  never  so  instructive  as  when 
she  teaches  us  what  to  avoid.  All  Christians,  whether  Cath- 
olic or  Protestant,  would  now  probably  unite  in  reprobating 
the  Inquisition  as  established  by  Caraffa,  Loyola,  and  Paul ; 
and  few  but  will  now  admit  that  the  present  decline  of  the 
Roman  Church  is  due  to  the  unhappy  counsels  of  those  im- 
prudent advisers.  The  persecutor,  in  whatever  form,  is  al- 
ways the  enemy  of  himself,  of  his  friends,  and  of  the  human 
race ;  and  Loyola,  as  the  founder  or  patron  of  a  system  of  re- 
ligious intolerance,  displayed  that  fatal  element  in  his  nature 
for  which  none  of  his  really  remarkable  qualities  could  atone. 
Cruelty,  or  that  barbarous  instinct  which  leads  men  to  wound 
or  destroy  each  other,  is  man's  crowning  vice ;  the  one  which 
Christianity  strives  to  eradicate  by  lessons  of  gentleness  and 
love ;  which  civilization  abhors  or  contemns.  As  contrasted, 
therefore,  with  their  chief  opponent,  the  eminent  reformers  of 
that  early  age  rise  to  a  high  and  humane  superiority.  Lu- 
ther, although  severe  in  doctrine,  never  encouraged  persecu- 
tion. A  single  unhappy  act  of  severity  stains  the  career  of 
the  gifted  Calvin.  Zuinglius  taught,  from  his  Swiss  mount- 
ains, universal  toleration.  Elizabeth  professed  a  similar  pol- 
icy, and  only  departed  from  it  when  she  believed  that  the 
Jesuits  pointed  the  daggers  that  were  aimed  at  her  heart; 
and  it  is  probable  that  many  Catholics  of  that  unhajjpy  age 
looked  with  shame  and  abhorrence  upon  the  crimes  of  their 
rulers. 

From  the  squalid  cave  at  Manreza  was  to  come  forth  a  still 
more  wonderful  inspiration  than  even  the  Holy  Office  itself — - 
no  less  than  the  reconstruction  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  Loy- 
ola was  to  rebuild  the  shattered  fabric,  to  renew  its  medigeval 
towers  anel  battlements,  to  crowd  its  walls  with  a  shining  ar- 
ray of  spectral  and  saintl}"  warriors,  and  to  make  it  the  gor- 
geous reflex  of  his  own  teeming  fancy.  Since  the  Council  of 
Trent  the  Roman  Church  has  been  the  representative  of  the 
faith  of  the  hermit  of  Manreza.  The  genius  of  Loyola  pre- 
sided at  Trent,  and  the  faitii  of  that  last  great  Romish  coun- 
cil was  determined  by  the  eloquence  and  learning  of  Laynez, 


THE  ''SPIRITUAL  EXERCISES."  117 

Salmeron,  and  Le  Jay.(')  But  the  Jesuits  spoke  only  wliat 
they  believed  to  be  the  meaning  of  their  spiritual  chief  at 
Rome.  They  had  sworn  a  perfect  obedience  to  Loyola;  in 
him  they  heard  the  voice  of  Heaven ;  in  his  "  Spiritual  Exer- 
cises" they  had  sought  salvation;  they  were  passive  tools  in 
the  hands  of  the  master ;  in  him  they  saw  a  god.  And  hence 
the  faith  which  the  three  Jesuits  preached  with  modest  elo- 
quence and  varied  learning  at  the  famous  council,  and  which 
was  to  become  the  law  of  the  Roman  Church,  may  be  found 
in  the  "  Spiritual  Exercises  "  and  the  final  "  Letter  on  Obedi- 
ence."0 

The  faith  which  Loyola  would  impart  to  his  disciples  was 
altogether  a  pictorial  one.  It  was  a  series  of  splendid  or  touch- 
ing visions  which  they  were  to  endeavor  to  realize  with  an  en- 
ti'ancing  clearness.  The  novice  was  instructed  to  withdraw 
himself  to  some  cell  or  solitude,  and  here,  with  fasting,  severe 
flagellation,  and  silent  meditation,  to  crush  every  worldly  im- 
pulse. He  was  now  in  a  condition  for  the  highest  spiritual 
exercise,  and  he  was  to  see  in  imagination  the  Holy  Virgin  and 
her  sacred  Son  standing  before  him  and  conversing  with  him 
upon  the  vanity  of  the  world.  (^)  He  was  next  to  image  to 
himself  the  vast  fires  of  hell,  and  the  souls  of  the  lost  shut  up 
in  their  eternal  dungeons.  He  was  to  listen  to  their  lamenta- 
tions and  their  blasphemies,  to  smell  the  smoke  of  the  brim- 
stone and  the  fire,  to  touch  the  consuming  flame  itself.  Now 
kneeling,  now  lying  prone  on  his  face,  and  now  on  his  back, 
faint  with  fasting  and  half  crazed  for  want  of  sleep,  torn  by 
frequent  scourging,  his  eyes  ever  streaming  with  tears,  the 
novice  was  to  seek  for  that  grace  and  pardon  which  came  only 
from  unsparing  penance.(^)  Then  he  was  to  bring  before  his 
mental  eye  the  outline  of  the  Gospel  story.  He  saw  the  Vir- 
gin sitting  on  a  she-ass,  and,  with  Joseph  and  a  poor  maid-serv- 
ant, setting  out  for  Bethlehem.  He  was  to  realize  the  weary 
journey  of  the  travelers,  to  strive  to  see  the  cavern  or  hut  of 

(')  Danrignac,  i.,  p.  40  ;  Ranke,  i.,  pp.  72,  73. 
C)  Cr^tineau-Joly,  i.,  pp.  249,255. 

C)  Exer.  Spirit.,  I,  Hebd. :  "  Colloquium  primum  fit  ad  Douiiuam  nos- 
trara,"  etc.  (^j  Id. 


118  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

the  nativity.(')  Every  event  in  the  hfe  of  the  Saviour  was  to 
be  painted  to  his  fancy,  and  every  sense  was  to  lend  its  aid 
to  complete  the  accuracy  of  the  picture.  He  would  hear  the 
groans  of  the  garden,  touch  the  bleeding  wounds,  taste  the  bit- 
ter gall.  One  of  his  own  most  striking  visions  Loyola  dwells 
upon  with  unusual  fondness.  On  the  fourth  day  of  the  sec- 
ond week  of  the  spiritual  exercises  the  novice  was  to  see  the 
battle  of  Babylon  and  Jerusalem.  He  was  to  imagine  a  bound- 
less plain  around  the  Sacred  City,  covered  with  hosts  of  the 
pure  and  the  good,  in  whose  midst  stood  the  Lord  Christ,  the 
commander  of  the  whole  army.  Upon  another — the  Babylo- 
nian plain — he  would  see  the  captain  of  sinners,  horrible  in 
aspect,  sitting  in  a  chair  of  lire  and  smoke,  and  marshaling  his 
legions  for  an  assault  upon  the  Church.(°) 

Such  were  the  visions  the  novice  was  to  summon  before 
him.  The  spiritual  exercises  were  divided  into  four  weeks, 
and  every  day  and  hour  had  its  appropriate  duty.  But  no 
study  of  the  Scriptures  is  enjoined ;  and  Loyola  seems  to  have 
scarcely  been  familiar'  with  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  or  the 
practical  wisdom  of  St.  Paul.  His  whole  fancy  was  apparent- 
ly filled  with  the  vision  of  his  heavenly  mistress,  who  had  so 
often  vouchsafed  to  appear  to  him  in  person  and  smile  upon 
him  benignantly,  and  whose  champion  he  had  so  early  avowed 
himself ;  and  he  evidently  believed  in  his  own  inspiration,  and 
felt  in  himself  a  prophetic  fervor.  He,  perhaps,  thought  him- 
self above  even  the  Church.  But  with  exceeding  discretion 
he  inculcated  ujDon  his  disciples  perfect  obedience  to  the  Ro- 
man See.  He  taught  a  submission  so  thorough  to  every  de- 
cision or  intimation  of  the  Church  as  was  never  known  before 
to  saint  or  hero.  If  the  Church  should  say  that  black  is 
white,  says  Loyola,  we  must  believe  her,  for  she  speaks  the 
voice  of  God.(')  Thus  did  the  unlearned  enthusiast  prostrate 
all  his  mental  faculties  before  that  shadowy  vision,  the  medi- 
reval  Church,  whose  limits  and  powers  no  one  could  define, 

(•)  Exer.  Spirit.,  II.  Hebd.  (")  Id. 

(^)  Exer.  Spirit.,  Req.  Aliquot:   "Si  quid,  qnod  oculis  iiostris  apparet 

album,  nigrum  ilia  esse  defiuierit,  debemus  itidein,  quod  uigrum  sit,  pro- 
nuiitiare." 


THE  COUNCIL   OF  TRENT.  119 

whose  utterances  were  confessedly  confused  and  contradicto- 
ry, which  to  one-half  the  Christian  world  seemed  to  have  de- 
parted wholly  from  the  simple  faith  of  the  Gospel,  and  whose 
luxury,  license,  and  pride  were  a  gross  parody  upon  religion 
and  truth.  Yet  Loyola,  who  professed  and  even  practiced 
humility,  self  -  denial,  and  a  spotless  purity,  was  now,  by  a 
strange  contradiction,  to  become  the  champion  of  an  institu- 
tion whose  corruption  even  popes  and  cardinals  confessed. 

The  Council  of  Trent  opened  with  imposing  ceremonies.(') 
It  was  designed  to  be  the  general  assembly  of  all  Christendom. 
It  was  filled  with  the  eminent  dignitaries  of  the  Catholic 
world,  with  bishops  and  archbishops,  with  the  cardinal  legates 
and  two  Jesuits  as  representatives  of  the  Papal  See,  with 
the  delegates  of  the  emperor  and  all  the  Catholic  sovereigns. 
Yet,  after  all,  it  was  but  a  feeble  and  fragmentary  gathering 
compared  with  those  magnificent  assemblies  which  had  been 
summoned  together  by  the  Koman  emperors,  where  the  Patri- 
archs of  the  East,  the  legates  of  Rome,  and  the  representatives 
of  Gaul,  Africa,  and  Spain  mot  to  decide,  with  clamorous  con- 
troversy, the  opinions  of  the  early  Church.  The  Council  of 
Trent  had  small  right  to  call  itself  Ecumenical.  One -half 
the  Christian  world  shi'unk  with  fear  or  horror  from  the  he- 
retical assembly.  The  whole  Eastern  Church,  with  the  great 
Patriarchates  of  Constantinople  and  Moscow,  denied  its  au- 
thority. England  and  Germany,  once  the  favored  children 
of  Pome,  had  thrown  off  its  allegiance.  The  most  eminent 
scholars  of  the  time  derided  the  claim  of  the  fragmentary 
gathering  to  decide  the  opinions  of  the  faithful.  Ko  Protest- 
ant dared  venture  to  the  hostile  assembly,  lest  he  might  share 
the  fate  of  Jerome  or  IIuss;  and  Luther  and  Melanchthon, 
the  reformers  of  Geneva  and  of  London,  united  in  opposing 
the  assumption  of  a  small  faction  of  the  Christian  world  to 
control  the  Universal  Church.  The  council,  they  said,  was 
only  a  factious  assembly.(')  It  was  only  designed  to  spread 
the  Inquisition,  to  confirm  the  power  of  the  papacy.     It  was  a 

(')  Piatti,  Storia  de'  Pontefici,  x.,  p.  127  ;  Sarpi,  Cou.  Trid. 
C)  Sarpi,  i.,  p.  97  et  seq. 


120  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

band  of  persecutors  into  Tvliose  hands  no  Christian  could  trust 
himself ;  its  theology  was  corrupt  and  unseriptural ;  its  poli- 
cy that  of  cruelty  and  persecution ;  it  was  an  assembly  of  the 
servants  and  adherents  of  the  antichrist  at  Kome. 

Spain,  Italy,  and  Austria  were  the  nations  chiefly  represent- 
ed at  the  Council  of  Trent.(')  They  were  the  lands  of  the  In- 
C[uisition  and  the  Jesuits.  In  all  of  them  free  opinion  had  late- 
ly been  extii-pated  or  repressed  by  the  most  horrible  cruelties ; 
and  it  was  certain  that  if  the  people  of  those  bleeding  nations 
had  been  allowed  to  send  delegates  to  the  council — if,  as  in 
early  and  better  ages,  the  popes  and  bishops  had  been  elected 
by  a  popular  vote — the  assembly  would  have  condemned  per- 
secution and  opened  wide  its  doors  to  the  pure  and  good  of 
everv  land.  Once  more  there  mio-ht  have  been  an  undivided 
Christendom ;  once  more  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  might 
have  pervaded  civilization. (*)  But  the  Papal  Church  was  con- 
trolled by  an  autocrat  at  Rome  who  would  abate  none  of  his 
tyranny;  by  a  corrupt  aristocracy  of  bishops  and  cardinals 
who  were  dependent  upon  the  papacy ;  and  by  Loyola,  who, 
from  his  flourishing  college,  silent  and  grave,  ruled  his  gift- 
ed followers  by  their  vows  of  passive  obedience.  More  than 
three  centuries  have  passed  since  the  Council  of  Trent.  And 
now  once  more  a  summons  fi'om  Kome  calls  the'  faithful  ad- 
herents of  the  absolute  tyranny  of  a  pope  to  assemble  and  dis- 
cuss the  critical  condition  of  the  ancient  see.(')  The  Jesuits 
still  rule  at  Rome ;  the  powerful  order  has  become  the  last 
stay  of  medireval  Christianity ;  but  the  people  have  long  since, 
in  every  land,  rebelled  against  the  teachings  of  Loyola.  Spain, 
hallowed  or  shamed  by  his  nativity,  has  abolished  the  whole 
mediaeval  system,  and  invites  free  thought  and  speech  to  take 
shelter  within  its  bordei's.  Italy,  which,  when  the  Council  of 
Trent  was  sitting,  was  crushed  by  the  Inquisition  into  a  hor- 
rible repose  that  was  to  check  her  progress  for  centuries,  now 
defies  the  papal  authority,  confiscates  the  property  of  the 

(')  Daurignac,  i.,  p.  53. 

(^)  Le  Plat,  Acta  Cou.  Trid.,  vii.,  part  ii.,  p.  2,  describes  the  slow  gather- 
ing of  the  council. 

(^)  This  was  written  in  1869,  before  the  Council  met. 


THE  JESUITS  Al   TRENT.  121 

Church,  and  would  gladly  see  both  Pope  and  Jesuit  take  flight 
to  some  more  congenial  land.  Austria  takes  part  in  the  gen- 
eral revolt  against  the  theory  of  passive  obedience ;  and  if  the 
people  of  those  three  great  Catholic  powers  were  now  permit- 
ted to  elect  bishops  and  popes,  and  to  select  their  delegates  to 
the  approaching  council,  it  is  probable  that  the  whole  mediaeval 
system  would  be  swept  away,  and  the  tyranny  of  corrupt  and 
irresponsible  churchmen  be  forever  broken.  Once  more  there 
might  be  an  undivided  Christendom,  in  feeling  if  not  in  form. 
The  Council  of  Trent  had  been  summoned  by  Paul  to  meet 
in  1542,  but  it  did  not  finally  assemble  until  1545. (')  It  contin- 
ued to  hold  its  sessions  until  1552,  when  it  was  prorogued,  and 
did  not  meet  again  for  ten  years.  In  1562  it  assembled  once 
more,  and  continued  for  nearly  two  years,  when  it  was  finally 
dissolved.  Laynez,  Salmeron,  and  Le  Jay  were  the  busiest  of 
its  members.  In  one  chief  element  of  religious  discussion  the 
Council  was  singularly  deficient ;  no  one  of  the  bishops  had 
read  the  fathers,  or  was  able  to  trace  to  its  sources  the  origin 
of  their  traditional  Church.  The  prompt  Laynez  offered  to 
supply  the  general  want  of  learning.  Night  and  day,  it  is 
said,  he  toiled  with  enormous  labor  over  the  ponderous  works 
of  the  authoritative  fathers ;  his  health  gave  way,  and  the  pa- 
tient and  ignorant  assembly  adjourned  until  he  had  recovered ; 
and  at  length  the  hasty  theologian  professed  himself  perfect  in 
his  task.  He  was  ready  with  reference  and  quotation  to  prove 
the  doctrine  of  penance  or  to  refute  the  most  moderate  of  the 
reformers.  Salmeron  was  equally  active,  and,  in  Father  Paul's 
opinion,  his  assumed  modesty  often  concealed  an  extraordinary 
impertinence.^  The  moderate  party  in  the  council,  led  by 
the  tolerant  Pole,  would  have  been  glad  to  have  refined  and 
purified  the  Church ;  but  they  were  overawed  by  the  Jesuits.(') 
The  most  extreme  measures  were  adopted ;  the  dreams  of 
Loyola  were  received  as  revelations  from  Heaven.     It  was  de- 

(')  Acta  Con.  Trid.,  Le  Plat.  In  January,  1546,  only  twenty  bishops  had 
arrived  to  represent  the  Universal  Church.     Vol.  vii.,  part  ii.,  p.  10. 

(=)  Sarpi,  1562,  i.,  p.  19 ;  Cr6tiuean-Joly,  i.,  p.  261. 

(^)  Salmerou's  speech,  Acta  Cou.  Trid.,  i.,  p.  93,  shows  his  vigor  and  bit- 
terness. 


122  LOYOLA  AND  THE  JESUITS. 

cided  tliat  tradition  was  of  equal  authoritj  with  the  Scriptures ; 
that  flagellations  and  self-infiicted  tortures  were  acceptable  to 
God ;  that  the  visions  of  the  Queen  of  Heaven  were  proofs  of 
a  divine  mission ;  that  the  cup  should  be  forbidden  to  the  lai- 
ty ;  that  passive  obedience  was  due  to  the  Konian  See.  After 
a  weary  session  of  eighteen  years,  in  the  midst  of  terrible  wars 
and  constant  scenes  of  horror,  the  unlucky  assembly  separated, 
followed  by  the  derision  of  the  Protestants  and  the  contempt 
of  the  more  thoughtful  Catholics.  Queen  Elizabeth  called  it 
a  popish  conventicle ;  and  only  the  papal  party  and  the  Jesu- 
its obeyed  the  schismatic  council. 

Loyola,  in  the  mean  time,  had  seen  his  little  society  grow  to 
vast  proportions.  Nine  members,  in  addition  to  himself,  had 
formed  the  whole  company  of  the  Jesuits  in  1540,  and  now 
the  numbers  had  increased  to  thousands.  Persecuted  by  the 
Dominicans  and  Benedictines,  feared  and  hated  by  the  clergy 
and  the  bishops,  the  wonderful  brotherhood  spread  over  South- 
ern Europe,  and  filled  the  cities  with  its  colleges  and  schools. 
The  constitution  of  the  society  is  a  perfect  despotism.(')  The 
general  has  an  absolute  control  over  every  one  of  the  mem- 
bers ;  his  voice  is  that  of  Heaven.Q  The  whole  body  of  the 
Jesuits  is  divided  into  four  orders ;  but  of  these  only  the 
highest,  composed  of  the  professed  or  advanced,  have  any  share 
in  the  election  of  their  chief.  They  form  a  severe  aristocracy, 
few  in  number,  and  holding  a  supreme  control  over  the  lower 
orders.  These  consist  of  the  Coadjutors,  the  Scholars,  and 
the  Novices.  They  are  bound  by  their  vows  to  obey  their  su- 
periors in  all  things,  and  are  early  taught  by  severe  tasks  and 
the  most  degrading  compliances  to  sacrifice  wholly  the  sen- 
timent of  personal  self-respect.  The  whole  society  forms  a 
well-disciplined  army,  governed  by  a  single  will,  and  every 
member  of  the  immense  brotherhood,  in  whatever  part  of  the 
earth  he  may  be  found,  looks  to  the  central  power  at  Rome 
for  the  guidance  of  all  his  conduct.     In  this  principle  lies  the 

(')  See  Constitutioiies  Societatis  Jesn,  1558  ;  printed  at  London,  1838. 

{^)  Const.,  p.  68.  Tlie  general,  locum  Dei  tenenti,  is  supreme.  See  Ra- 
viguan,  i.,  p.  91 :  "  Je  vois  Dieu,  j'euteuds  J^sus-CIirist,  lui-m6nie  daus  uiou 
supdrieur." 


GREAT  WEALTH  OF  THE  JESUITS.  123 

wonderful  vigor  that  has  made  tlie  Jesuits,  for  more  than  three 
centuries,  one  of  the  chief  powers  of  the  earth.  Implicit  obe- 
dience is  the  source  of  their  unity  and  strength. 

The  Jesuits  are  supposed  to  live  upon  alms.  But  their  col- 
leges are  all  richly  endowed ;  and  in  the  lapse  of  ages  their 
wealth  must  have  accumulated  to  an  enormous  amount.  Their 
colleges  are  found  in  every  part  of  the  world. (')  They  usual- 
ly possess  costly  buildings,  and  all  the  marks  of  prosperous  op- 
ulence. They  profess  to  teach  gratuitously ;  they  expend  large 
sums  in  charity ;  they  educate  countless  scholars  in  the  strict- 
est observances  of  the  mediaeval  faith;  and  notwithstanding 
his  vow  of  poverty,  it  is  possible  that  no  other  potentate  has 
controlled  more  extensive  revenues  than  the  General  of  the 
Jesuits  at  Kome.  Conscious  of  power,  and  perhaps  elated  by 
success,  Loyola,  in  the  close  of  his  life,  showed  traces  of  vanity 
and  presumption.  He  was  fond  of  Ijoasting  of  his  own  suffer- 
ings and  his  own  familiarity  with  the  rulers  of  the  skies.  He 
was  ever  imperious  and  visionary,  and  now  the  insane  thought 
seems  to  have  entered  his  mind  that  he  was  the  brother  of 
Christ.Q  At  night  he  was  often  visited  by  demons  who  shook 
him  in  his  bed,  and  his  loud  outcries  would  awaken  the  broth- 
er who  slept  in  an  adjoining  cell.  His  health  was  always  fee- 
ble, and  he  often  suffered  agonies  of  pain.  He  was  at  times 
probably  insane.  Yet  he  would  soon  recover  again,  and  di- 
rect all  his  faculties  to  the  government  and  extension  of  his 
mighty  army,  which  was  now  doing  battle  for  the  papacy  in 
every  land. 

It  formed  a  vast  missionary  society,  whose  gifted  members, 
eager  for  the  crown  of  martyrdom,  plunged  boldly  into  un- 
known lands,  and  preached  to  wondering  heathendom  the  glo- 
ries of  the  Queen  of  Heaven.  Loyola's  design  had  always 
been  to  convert  the  world  to  the  Eoman  faith.  He  would 
make  amends  for  the  loss  of  England  and  the  hardy  North 
by  the  conquest  of  India  or  Japan,  and  teach  the  uncultivated 


(')  See  Const.,  Pars  Sexta;  Daurignac,  i.,  p.  35.     They  began  at  ouce  to 
found  colleges. 

(')  Steiumetz,  Hist.  Jesuits,  i.,  p.  295 ;  Cr6tineau-Joly,  i.,  p.  32. 


124  LOYOLA  AXD   THE  JESUITS. 

savages  of  Canada  or  Brazil  to  chant  the  praises  of  the  Bless- 
ed Marj.  Thus  the  splendid  fabric  of  the  Roman  Clmrch 
would  be  renewed  in  the  rich  streets  of  Delhi,  in  the  teeming 
cities  of  China,  or  the  wild  woods  of  the  untutored  West,  and 
the  vows  of  passive  obedience  sink  deep  in  the  bosom  of  the 
gentle  races  of  the  Eastern  lands.  How  should  the  faith  of 
the  simple  savage  put  to  shame  the  hardy  heretics  of  Ger- 
many !  How  must  schismatic  Europe  blush  when  it  saw  Asia 
bowing  at  the  shrine  of  Mary !  He  hastened  to  put  his  grand 
design  into  execution,  and  the  brilliant  and  impassioned  Xa- 
vier  was  chosen  as  the  first  missionary  to  the  golden  East.(') 
Xa^-ier  had  been  one  of  those  early  disciples  who  had  knelt 
with  Loyola  in  the  subterranean  shrine  at  Paris,  and  who  had 
abandoned  wealth,  fame,  and  regal  favors  for  the  companion- 
ship of  his  outcast  master.  He  was  pure  and  gentle,  an  indif- 
ferent scholar,  a  graceful  and  persuasive  teacher.  He  wanted 
the  deep  reading  of  the  iron  Laynez,  or  the  busy  impertinence 
of  the  active  Salmeron  ;  and  Loyola,  thoughtless  of  the  friend 
in  the  requirements  of  the  order,  sent  forth  the  faithful  dis- 
ciple to  be  the  martyr  and  the  apostle  of  the  East.  Xavier's 
career,  according  to  his  numerous  biographers,  was  a  wonder- 
ful scene  of  success.  Millions  of  heathen  yielded  to  his  elo- 
quence.(*)  All  Hiudostan  seemed  to  receive  him  with  delight. 
He  worked  a  thousand  miracles ;  and  when  language  failed  to 
convert  a  heathen  nation,  he  brought  a  dead  man  to  life,  and 
they  yielded  at  once.  He  could  even  impart  his  miraculous 
powers  to  others,  and  had  formed  a  band  of  boys  who  were 
miracle-workers  when  the  weary  saint  had  ceased.  Against 
wicked  heathen  who  resisted  his  appeals  he  sometimes  sent 
forth  armies,  wlio  gained  victory  with  great  slaughter  of  the 
foe ;  and  sometimes  he  destroyed  his  enemies  by  a  silent  mal- 
ediction. Europe  was  filled  with  the  fame  of  the  exploits  of 
the  inspired  missionary,  and  it  was  rumored  that  the  whole 
East  would  soon  bow  to  the  Romish  sway.  But  his  success 
proved  to  be  exaggerated  or  transient.     Xavier  had  entered 

(')  Bntler,  Lives  of  Saints,  xii.,  p.  32. 

(°)  Butler,  xii.,  p.  34 ;  Daurignac,  i.,  p.  51 ;  Cr^tineau-Joly,  i.,  p.  476. 


XAVIER  IN  THE  EAST.  125 

India  when  the  Portuguese  were  everywhere  conquering  or 
desolating  that  unhappy  land ;  the  subject  people  yielded  to 
the  command  of  one  of  the  victorious  race,  and  were  bap- 
tized.(')  They  kissed  the  crucifix  of  the  missionary,  they 
adored  his  pictures,  and  they  chanted  a  "  Hail  Mary,"  But 
the  converts  were  chiefly  from  the  lowest  and  most  corrupt 
of  the  Hindoos ;  the  transient  impulse  soon  passed  away,  and 
they  once  more  returned  to  their  native  idols,  Xavier  left 
India,  weeping  over  the  vices  and  the  brutality  of  its  people. 
The  impassioned  missionary  next  planned  the  spiritual  con- 
quest of  Japan,  and  came  to  that  remarkable  country  under 
the  protection  of  the  Portuguese  arms.  Here,  too,  he  seemed 
at  first  to  obtain  a  wonderful  triumph.  The  Japanese  bowed 
devoutly  in  great  multitudes  before  his  pictures  of  Christ  and 
the  Holy  Virgin.  He  founded  schools,  planted  churches,  and 
three  times  a  day  his  intelligent  converts  repeated  their  "  Hail 
Mary"  in  groves  once  tenanted  by  Satan.  Yet  here,  too,  his 
miracles  and  his  teaching  had  only  a  temporary  influence. 
And  at  lengthQ  the  Apostle  of  the  East,  worn  with  toil  and 
disappointment,  died  (1552)  on  a  rocky  isle  on  the  coast  of 
China,  still,  in  his  eager  ambition,  planning  a  missionary  in- 
vasion into  the  land  of  Confucius  and  Boodh.(')  One  can  not 
avoid  contrasting  the  imperfect  labors  of  the  Jesuit  Apostle 
of  the  East  with  those  of  him  who  stood  on  Mars  Hill,  or  in 
the  crowded  streets  of  Rome ;  who  bore  no  images  nor  pict- 
ures; who  insisted  upon  no  idolatrous  observances;  who  told 
no  fanciful  legends  of  the  Virgin  and  the  saints;  but  who 
pierced  the  hearts  of  the  gifted  Greeks  and  Romans  by  the 
plain  words  of  gentleness,  soberness,  and  truth.  The  sennons, 
the  prayers,  the  letters,  the  example  of  the  Apostle  to  the 
Gentiles  founded  a  Church  that  shall  live  forever ;  the  pict- 
ures, the  crucifixes,  the  legends,  and  medieval  hymns  of  his 
spurious  successor  have  faded  swiftly  from  tlie  mind  of  the 
idolatrous  East. 

Meanwhile  the  Jesuit  missionaries,  with  undoubted  hero- 


(>)  Daurignac,  i.,  p.  51.         (^)  Butler,  xii.,  p.  58;  Cr^tiueaii-Joly,  i.,  p.474. 
O  Cr(Stiueau-Joly,  i.,  p.  494. 


126  LOYOLA  AND  THE  JESUITS. 

ism,  made  their  way  into  the  dark  places  of  the  earth.  They 
founded  a  flourishing  settlement  in  Brazil  that  seemed  for  a 
long  time  full  of  delightful  promise.(')  They  half  converted 
the  Japanese ;  they  ruled  at  Pekin,  and  made  the  Chinese  ac- 
quainted with  Western  science ;  they  penetrated  to  Ethiopia ; 
they  softened  the  savages  of  Canada  and  Illinois;  and  they 
proved  their  sincerity  and  heroism  by  a  thousand  arduous  ex- 
ploits. Yet  a  similar  ill  fortune  seemed  to  attend  all  their 
enterprises,  and  China,  Japan,  America,  Ethiopia  once  more 
repelled  with  bitter  hatred  the  oppressive  sway  of  Rome.  A 
multitude  of  pious  and  earnest  Jesuits,  whose  pure  and  holy 
lives  have  been  sacrificed  in  vain,  have  labored  and  died  in 
savage  wildernesses,  in  heathen  cities,  in  malarious  jungles, 
and  in  icy  solitudes ;  but  the  intrigues  and  vices  of  their  Ital- 
ian masters  have  uniformly  destroyed  the  fruits  of  their  mar- 
tyrdom and  self-devotion. 

With  their  home  missions  the  Jesuits  were  more  successful. 
Here,  too,  they  strove  to  unite  arms  with  letters,  and  to  plant 
their  free  schools  in  the  hei'etical  North  by  diplomacy  and  the 
sword.  They  steeled  the  heart  of  Charles  V.  —  if  indeed  he 
ever  possessed  one — against  his  Protestant  subjects;  and  he 
was  soon  induced  to  commence  a  bitter  war  against  the  heret- 
ical league.  At  the  Battle  of  Miihlberg,  where  the  Germans 
were  routed  and  overthrown,  Bobadilla  appeared  in  the  front 
ranks  of  the  Catholic  forces,  mounted  upon  a  spirited  steed, 
waving  his  crucifix  on  high,  and  promising  victory  to  the  im- 
perial cause.(°)  The  Protestants  fled,  and  soon  in  all  their  ter- 
rified cities  flourishing  Jesuit  colleges  sprung  up,  as  if  by  mag- 
ic, and  thousands  of  children  were  instructed  and  confimied 
in  the  visions  of  Loyola  and  the  decrees  of  the  Council  of 
Trent.  The  Jesuits  made  admirable  teachers.  Loyola  was 
resolved  to  make  his  colleges  splendid  with  erudition  and 
genius.  At  Rome  he  gathered  around  him  the  most  accom- 
plished professors,  the  most  abundant  learning ;  and  he  lav- 


(')  Daurignac,  i.,  p.  55. 

C')  Stoiiimetz,  i.,  p.  201;   Ci<5tiueau-Joly,  i.,  p.  283:   "He  was  wounded 
(fiapp^  a  tete),  but  recovered." 


JESUIT  LITERATURE.  127 

ished  money  in  profusion  to  provide  fine  buildings,  libraries, 
and  all  the  apparatus  of  letters.  The  most  intelligent  scholars 
were  noted,  rewarded,  encouraged ;  every  promising  genius 
was  snatched  from  the  world  and  devoted  to  the  cultivation 
of  inferior  minds ;  a  severe  and  perfect  discipline  prevailed  in 
all  his  schools ;  and  it  is  chiefly  as  teachers  that  the  Jesuits 
won  their  lasting  triumphs  in  the  German  cities.  Their  free 
schools  educated  the  rising  generation ;  and  the  Protestants, 
who  had  heretofore  possessed  all  the  literature  of  the  age,  soon 
found  themselves  met  and  often  overthrown  by  the  keen  cas- 
uistry of  the  Jesuit  scholars.  A  reaction  took  place,  and  Ger- 
many seemed  swiftly  returning  to  the  ancient  faith. 

Yet  the  new  literature  of  the  Jesuits,  confined  by  the  op- 
pressive restrictions  of  their  discipline,  contained  within  itself 
a  principle  of  decay.  Genius  could  scarcely  flourish  under  a 
system  of  mental  serfdom  ;  learning  oppressed  grew  dwarfed 
and  imbecile.  The  Jesuit  scholars  were  often  laborious,  ac- 
curate, methodical;  but  they  produced  no  brilliant  Scaliger 
nor  daring  Wolf.  No  poet,  philosopher,  nor  original  thinker 
could  possibly  arise  in  their  schools;  there  was  no  Jesuit 
Goethe,  no  Schiller,  no  Shakspeare ;  their  mental  labors  were 
various  and  valuable,  but  never  great ;  they  produced  chiefly 
an  immense,  curious,  and  often  worse  than  worthless  kind  of 
literature  called  casuistry.(')  Of  this  they  were  fertile  beyond 
example.  Their  intellect,  pressed  out  of  its  natural  growth, 
spread  in  matted  vegetation  along  the  ground,  or  clung  in 
wild  festoons  around  ancient  oaks,  like  the  gray  mosses  of  a 
Southern  forest.  The  countless  works  of  casuistry  produced 
by  Jesuit  scholars  in  the  seventeenth  century  are  usually  ef- 
forts to  show  how  far  they  are  restricted  in  morals  by  the 
rules  of  their  faith  ;  what  acts  are  lawful,  what  expedient ; 
and  their  diligent  effort  to  reconcile  virtue  with  the  supreme 
law  of  obedience  led  them  to  a  strange  condition  of  mental 
corruption.  Mariana  defended  regicide,  poisoning,  and  as- 
sassination ;  Father  Garnet  confessed  that  he  did  not  liesitate 

(*)  The  le.arued  Tiraboschi  and  the  ingenious  Boscovicli  flourished  during 
the  suppression  of  the  order. 


128  LOYOLA  AND   TEE  JESUITS. 

to  tell  falsehoods  for  the  good  of  his  Church;  and  there  is 
scarcely  a  crime  in  the  hst  of  human  guilt  that  the  diseased 
intellect  of  the  Jesuit  fathers  did  not  palliate  or  excuse. 

But  it  was  chieflj  as  politicians  that  the  Jesuits  have  won, 
and  probably  deserved,  an  infamous  renown  in  history.  The 
order  was  aggressive  and  ardent — full  of  grand  schemes  for 
the  extirpation  of  heretics  and  the  subjugation  of  England 
and  the  hardy  North.  Every  member  of  the  mighty  league 
had  sworn  to  give  his  life,  if  necessary,  for  the  advancement 
of  the  faith ;  was  ready  to  fly  at  a  sudden  notice  to  the  far- 
thest lands  at  the  bidding  of  his  superior  or  the  Pope ;  and 
perhaps  might  merit  some  frightful  punishment  at  home  did 
he  not  obey  his  commander  to  the  uttermost.  The  irrevocable 
vow  and  the  long  practice  in  abject  submission  made  the  Jes- 
uits the  most  admirable  instruments  of  crime.(')  In  the  hands 
of  wicked  popes  like  Gregory  XIIL,  or  cruel  tyrants  like  Phil- 
ip II,,  they  were  never  suffered  to  rest.(^)  Their  exploits  are 
among  the  most  wonderful  and  daring  in  history.  They  are 
more  romantic  than  the  boldest  pictures  of  the  novelist ;  more 
varied  and  interesting  than  the  best-laid  plots  of  the  most 
inventive  masters.  No  Arabian  narrator  nor  Scottish  wizard 
could  have  imagined  them  ;  no  Shakspeare  could  have  foreseen 
the  strange  mental  and  political  conditions  that  led  the  enthu- 
siasts on  in  their  deeds  of  heroism  and  crime.  Jesuits  pene- 
trated, disguised,  into  England  when  death  was  their  punish- 
ment if  discovered ;  hovered  in  strange  forms  around  the  per- 
son of  Elizabeth,  whose  assassination  was  the  favorite  aim  of 
Philip  II.  and  the  Pope ;  reeled  through  the  streets  of  Lon- 
don as  pretended  drunkards ;  hid  in  dark  closets  and  were  fed 
through  quills ;  and  often,  when  discovered,  died  in  horrible 
tortures  with  silent  joy.  The  very  name  of  the  new  and  act- 
ive society  was  a  terror  to  all  the  Protestant  courts.  A  single 
Jesuit  was  believed  to  be  more  dangerous  than  a  whole  mon- 
astery of  Black-friars.  A  Campion,  Parsons,  or  Garnet  filled 
all  England  with  alarm.  And  in  all  that  long  struggle  M'liich 
followed  between  the  North  and  the  South,  in  which  the  fierce 

(')  Steinmetz,  i.,  p.  452.  C)  Cr^tiueau-Jolj-,  ii.,  p.  296. 


JESUIT  ASSASSINS.  129 

Spaniards  and  Italians  made  a  desperate  assault  upon  the  re- 
bellious region,  strove  to  dethrone  or  destroy  its  kings,  to  crush 
the  rising  intellect  of  its  people,  or  to  extirpate  the  hated  ele- 
ments of  reform,  the  historians  uniformly  point  to  the  Jesuits 
as  the  active  agents  in  every  rebellion,  and  the  tried  and  un- 
flinching instruments  of  unsparing  Eome.(')     A  Jesuit  pene- 
trated in  strange  attire  to  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  and  lured  her 
to  her  ruin.     Another  sought  to  convert  or  dethrone  a  king 
of  Sweden.     One  conveyed  the  intelligence  to  Catherine  and 
Charles  IX.  that  produced  a  horrible  massacre  of  the  reform- 
ers.    One  traveled  into  distant  Muscovy  to  sow  the  seeds  of 
endless  war.     Mariana,  an  eminent  Jesuit,  published  a  work 
defending  regicide  which  was  faintly  condemned  by  the  or- 
der, and  soon  Henry  III.  fell  by  the  assassin's  blow ;  William 
of  Orange,  pursued  by  the  endless  attempts  of  assassins,  at  last 
received  the  fatal  wound;  Elizabeth  was  hunted  down,  but 
escaped ;  Henry  lY.,  after  many  a  dangerous  assault,  died,  it 
was  said,  by  the  arts  of  the  Jesuits ;  James  I.  and  his  family 
escaped  by  a  miracle  from  the  plot  of  Fawkes  and  Garnet ; 
while  many  inferior  characters  of  this  troubled  age  disappear- 
ed suddenly  from  human  sight,  or  were  found  stabbed  and 
bleeding  in  their  homes.     All  these  frightful  acts  the  men  of 
that  period  attributed  to  the  fatal  vow  of  obedience.     The 
Jesuit  was  the  terror  of  his  times.      Catholics  abhorred  and 
shrunk  from  him  with  almost  as  much  real  aversion  as  Prot- 
estants.     The  universities  and  the  clergy  feared  and  hated 
the  unscrupulous  order.     The  Jesuit  was  renowned  for  his 
pitiless  cruelty.(')     The  mild  Franciscans  and  Benedictines, 
and  even  the  Spanish  Dominicans,  could  not  be  relied  upon 
by  the  popes  and  kings,  and  were  cast  contemptuously  aside ; 
while   their  swift  and   ready  rivals  sprung  forward   at  the 
slightest  intimation  of  their  superior,  and,  with  a  devotion  to 
their  chief  at  Rome  not  surpassed  by  that  of  the  assassins  of 
the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain,  flung  themselves  in  the  face  of 
death. 

One  of  the  early  victims  of  the  fatal  vow  of  obedience  was 

(')  Motley,  Netherlands,  iii.,  p.  444.  C)  Id. 

9 


130  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

William,  Prince  of  Orange.(')  He  was  the  bulwark  of  Prot- 
estantism, the  founder  of  a  great  nation.  Philip  II.  of  Spain 
had  long  pursued  him  with  secret  assassins  and  open  plots :  a 
ban  had  been  pronounced  against  him,  and  a  large  reward  was 
offered  to  any  one  who  would  destroy  him ;  and  no  name  was 
so  hated  by  the  Catholics  of  every  land  as  that  of  the  grave 
and  silent  prince.  Yet  William  had  heretofore  baffled  all  the 
efforts  of  his  foe.  He  had  made  Holland  free,  had  secured  the 
independence  of  the  Protestant  faith,  and  still  maintained  the 
good  cause  against  the  arts  and  arms  of  the  treacherous  Philip 
by  his  singular  energy  and  wisdom.  He  had  escaped  a  thou- 
sand dangers,  and  seemed  to  glide  through  the  midst  of  Phil- 
ip's assassins  with  a  charmed  life.  Yet  every  violent  Catholic 
was  longing  to  send  a  dagger  to  the  heart  of  the  triumphant 
heretic,  and  hoped  that  with  the  death  of  William  the  Neth- 
erlands would  once  more  fall  into  the  power  of  the  papal  In- 
quisitors. 

Balthazar  Gerard  was  one  of  the  most  bigoted  of  his  party. 
He  was  the  son  of  respectable  parents  in  Burgundy.  He  was 
small  in  stature,  insignificant  in  appearance ;  but  his  whole 
nature  was  moved  by  a  fierce  desire  to  assassinate  the  Prince 
of  Orange.  When  he  was  yet  a  youth,  he  had  already  formed 
the  design  of  murdering  the  prince,  whom  he  called  a  rebel 
against  the  Catholic  King  and  a  distm-ber  of  the  Apostolic 
Church.  At  twenty,  Balthazar  had  struck  his  dagger  with  all 
his  strength  into  a  door,  exclaiming,  "  Would  it  had  been  the 
heart  of  Orange !"  For  seven  years  he  meditated  upon  his  de- 
sign ;  but  when  Philip  offered  his  reward  for  William's  death, 
Gerard  became  more  eager  than  ever  before  to  execute  his  pur- 
pose. Fame,  honors,  wealth,  the  favor  of  his  king,  awaited  the 
successful  assassin,  and  he  no  longer  hesitated.  He  first,  how- 
ever, confessed  his  design  to  the  regent  of  the  Jesuit  college  at 
Luxemburg,  and  received  his  warm  commendation.  A  second 
Jesuit,  to  whom  he  mentioned  his  plan,  dissuaded  him  from 
it,  not  because  he  disapproved  of  it,  but  from  its  difficulty. 
He  next  presented  himseK  to  Alexander,  Prince  of  Parma,  the 

(')  Motley,  Dutch  Rep.,  iii.,  p.  596  et  seq. 


WILLIAM  OF  ORANGE.  131 

most  brilliant  soldier  of  tlie  age.  Parma  had  long  been  look- 
ing for  some  one  to  murder  William,  but  Balthazar's  insignifi- 
cant stature  and"  feeble  appearance  seemed  to  him  ill-suited  to 
the  task.  The  young  assassin's  fierce  resolution,  however,  soon 
induced  the  prince  to  encourage  him  ;  and  he  promised  Bal- 
thazar that  if  he  fell  in  the  attempt  the  expected  reward  should 
be  given  to  his  parents.  His  plan  was  to  disguise  himself  as 
a  Calvinist,  the  son  of  one  who  had  died  for  his  faith,  and,  hav- 
ing claimed  aid  from  William,  to  gain  access  to  his  presence 
and  shoot  him  down  with  a  pistol. (') 

The  prince  was  now  living  in  a  quiet  retirement  at  the  lit- 
tle town  of  Delft.  His  house  was  plain,  although  large,  and 
stood  on  Delft  Street,  a  pleasant  canal  that  ran  through  the 
city,  and  which  was  shaded  by  rows  of  lime-trees  that  in  sum- 
mer filled  the  air  with  the  perfume  of  their  blossoms.  The 
house  was  of  brick,  two  stories  high,  with  a  roof  covered  with 
red  tiles.  In  front  a  considerable  court-yard  opened  toward 
the  canal.  And  here,  in  the  quiet  little  Dutch  town,  surround- 
ed by  his  affectionate  family  and  followed  by  the  love  of  his 
countrymen,  William  lived  in  a  calm  tranquillity,  careless  of 
the  plottings  of  his  foes.  Balthazar,  meantime,  reached  Delft 
in  July,  1584,  as  a  special  messenger  to  William  of  Orange. 
He  appeared  as  a  modest,  pious  youth,  always  carrying  a  Bible 
under  his  arm ;  and,  to  his  great  surprise,  he  was  at  once  ad- 
mitted to  the  prince's  chamber.  He  stood  before  his  victim. 
Yet  he  had  no  arms  to  carry  out  his  design,  and  Parma  had 
been  so  penurious  as  to  leave  him  without  money.  William, 
hearing  of  his  poverty,  sent  him  some  small  gift,  which  Bal- 
thazar laid  out  in  buying  a  pair  of  pistols  from  a  soldier.  The 
latter  killed  himself  the  next  day  when  he  learned  to  what  use 
his  pistols  had  been  applied. 

At  half-past  twelve  o'clock,  on  the  10th  of  July,  the  prince, 
with  his  wife,  and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  his  family, 
passed  into  the  dining-room  of  the  plain  Dutch  house,  and  sat 
down  to  dinner.  On  their  way  they  were  accosted  by  Gerard, 
who,  with  pale  and  agitated  countenance,  asked  for  a  passport. 

(')  Motley,  Dutch  Rep.,  iii.,  p.  59G  et  seq. 


132  LOYOLA  AND  THE  JESUITS. 

The  princess,  wlio  noticed  liim,  said  in  a  low  tone  that  she 
had  never  seen  so  villainous  an  expression.  The  cheerful  din- 
ner was  over  by  two  o'clock.  The  company  rose  from  the  ta- 
ble and  passed  out,  the  prince  leading  the  way.  As  he  as- 
cended a  staircase  to  go  to  the  upper  floor,  Gerard  came  out 
from  an  archway  and  shot  him  to  the  heart.  He  died  ex- 
claiming, "  My  God,  have  mercy  on  this  poor  people !"  The 
murderer  meantime  fled  swiftly  from  the  house,  and  had  near- 
ly escaped  over  the  city  walls  when  he  stumbled  and  was 
seized  by  the  guards.  He  was  executed  with  horrible  tort- 
ures, and  in  his  confession  related  how  he  had  been  confirmed 
in  his  design  by  the  Jesuit  father  at  Luxemburg.  Philip  II. 
and  the  violent  Catholics  looked  upon  his  act  as  highly  meri- 
torious. The  king  ennobled  and  enriched  his  parents,  and  as 
the  price  of  blood  his  family  took  their  place  among  the  no- 
bility of  the  land. 

In  the  Netherlands  the  Jesuits  were  the  last  persecutors. 
They  clung  to  the  use  of  brutal  violence  in  religious  mat- 
ters when  the  practice  had  almost  died  out.  "  Send  us  more 
Jesuits,"  was  always  the  demand  of  the  Spanish  commanders 
when  they  would  complete  the  subjection  of  some  conquered 
city,(*)  and  Jesuit  colleges  were  founded  at  once  amidst  the 
ruins  of  Antwerp  and  Haarlem,  The  opinions  of  Loyola  and 
the  decrees  of  the  Council  of  Trent  were  enforced  in  the 
Netherlands  by  the  massacre  of  helpless  thousands;  and  it 
was  chiefly  upon  the  poor  that  the  persecutors  executed  their 
worst  outrages.  A  poor  serving-woman,  Anna  Yan  der  Hove, 
was  the  last  and  most  remarkable  of  their  ^actims.  Two 
maiden  ladies  lived  on  the  north  rampart  of  Antwerp,  who 
had  formerly  professed  the  Protestant  faith,  and  had  been 
thrown  into  prison ;  but  they  had  prudently  renounced  their 
errors,  and  now  went  devoutly  to  mass.  Not  so,  however,  did 
their  maid-servant,  Anna,  who  was  about  forty  years  of  age, 
and  M^as  firm  in  the  faith  in  which  she  had  been  born  and  ed- 
ucated. The  Jesuits,  enraged  at  her  obstinate  honesty,  re- 
solved to  make  the  poor  serving-woman  an  example  to  all  her 

(')  Motley,  Netherlands,  iii.,  p.  444^ 


JESUIT  EXECUTIONS.  133 

class.  They  denounced  her  to  the  aiithorities,  claiming  her 
execution  under  an  old  law  so  cruel  that  every  one  believed  it 
had  long  been  laid  aside.  Anna  was  condemned  to  be  buried 
ahve,  the  legal  punishment  of  heretics ;  but  the  Jesuits  told 
her  she  might  escape  her  doom  if  she  would  recant  and  be  rec- 
onciled to  the  Catholic  Church.  The  honest  woman  refused. 
She  said  she  had  read  her  Bible  and  had  found  there  nothing 
said  of  popes,  purgatory,  or  the  invocation  of  saints.  How 
could  she  ever  hope  to  merit  a  future  bliss  if  she  professed  to 
beheve  what  she  knew  to  be  false  ?  Far  rather  would  she  die 
than  lose  that  heavenly  crown  which  she  saw  shining  resplen- 
dently  even  for  her  humble  head  above.  She  would  do  noth- 
ing against  her  conscience.  She  desired  to  interfere  with  no 
other  person's  belief ;  but  for  herself,  she  said,  she  preferred 
death  to  the  unpardonable  sin  of  dishonesty. 

On  a  fair  midsummer  morning  she  was  led  out  of  the  city 
of  Brussels,  where  her  trial  had  taken  place,  to  a  hay-field  near 
at  hand.  A  Jesuit  father  walked  on  either  side,  followed  by 
several  monks  called  love  -  brothers,  who  taunted  Anna  with 
her  certain  doom  in  another  world,  calling  her  harsh  and  cruel 
names.  But  she  did  not  hear  them.  All  her  thoughts  were 
now  fixed  on  heaven.  There  she  saw  the  golden  gates  wide 
open,  and  angels  stooping  down  to  snatch  her  from  the  power 
of  Satan.  They  put  her  in  a  pit  already  prepared,  and,  when 
she  was  half  covered  with  earth,  once  more  tempted  her  to 
recant  and  save  her  life.  Again  she  refused ;  the  earth  was 
thrown  in,  and  the  executioners  trod  it  down  upon  her  sacred 
head.    Such  was  the  last  religious  murder  in  the  ]^etherlands.(') 

Meantime  the  Jesuits  had  long  been  engaged  in  a  series  of 
vigorous  efforts  to  conquer  rebellious  England.  The  whole 
intellect  and  energy  of  the  company  was  dii'ected  to  this  dar- 
ing but  almost  hopeless  attempt.  Popes  and  priests  had  ex- 
ulted in  a  momentary  triumph  when  Mary  gave  her  hand  and 
heart  to  Philip  II.,  and  when  Cranmer,  Ridley,  Rogers,  and  a 
host  of  martyrs  had  died  to  consecrate  the  fatal  nuptials.^) 

(')  Motley,  Netherlands,  iii.,  p.  446. 

C*)  Cr^tineau-Joly  defends  Mary  on  various  grounds,  ii.,  p.  336. 


134  LOYOLA  AND  THE  JESUITS. 

But  the  accession  of  Elizabeth  had  once  more  filled  Rome  and 
Spain  with  inexpressible  rage.  The  heretical  queen  became 
the  object  of  an  endless  number  of  plots  and  projects  of  as- 
sassination, Jesuits  hid  themselves  in  London  or  wandered 
from  house  to  house  through  the  Catholic  districts,  exciting 
the  zeal  of  the  faithful,  and  vainly  striving  to  arouse  all  Cath- 
olic England  to  revolt  in  favor  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots. 
Elizabeth  was  in  imminent  danger.  The  Jesuit,  Parsons,  de- 
nounced her  as  a  murderess  and  a  bastard.  Philip  sent  his 
Armada  against  her  loaded  with  priests.  But  the  great  ma- 
jority of  her  Catholic  subjects  remained  true  to  their  native 
queen,  and  the  Jesuits  found  but  little  sympathy  even  among 
those  whom  they  looked  upon  as  their  natural  allies. 

Father  Garnet  is  one  of  the  most  noted  of  these  imprudent 
Jesuits.  He  was  the  provincial  of  the  English  company.  The 
Jesuits,  on  the  death  of  Elizabeth,  had  formed  a  wild  scheme 
to  prevent  the  accession  of  James,  and  the  king  renewed  and 
enforced  the  severe  laws  against  his  Catholic  subjects.  Ruin 
hung  over  them,  and  the  imprudent  conduct  of  the  aggressive 
Jesuits  had  only  brought  destruction  to  their  friends  and  to 
their  cause.(')  In  this  extremity  it  is  charged  that  they  enter- 
ed upon  a  still  more  desperate  scheme — the  Gunpowder  Plot. 
Father  Garnet,  as  he  was  called,  the  Jesuit  provincial,  was  now 
in  England,  with  several  others  of  his  company,  and  a  plan 
was  formed  by  the  zealous  Catholics  to  blow  up  the  Houses  of 
Parliament  and  King  James  with  gunpowder.  The  plot  was 
discovered,  and  Guy  Fawkes  was  seized  in  the  cellars  of  the 
Parliament  House  just  as  he  was  about  to  set  fire  to  the  bar- 
rels of  powder.  Fawkes  is  represented  by  the  Jesuits  as  hav- 
ing been  a  man  of  great  piety,  amiable,  clieerful,  of  unblem- 
ished lionor,  and  strict  in  all  religious  observances.  All  of  the 
conspirators  belonged  to  the  Jesuit  faction,  and  it  is  believed 
that  none  of  the  English  Catholics  were  engaged  in  the  plot. 
A  search  was  at  once  made  for  concealed  Jesuits.  Several  es- 
caped to  the  continent ;  but  Garnet  lay  hidden  at  a  house  in 
Hendlip,  near  Worcester.     He  was  concealed,  with  another 

C)  Steinmetz,  ii.,  p.  200. 


FATHER   GARNET.  135 

Jesuit  and  two  servants,  in  one  of  those  secret  chambers  which 
were  common  at  that  period  in  the  houses  of  wealthy  Catho- 
lics. Here  the  unhappy  fugitives  were  imprisoned  for  seven 
days  and  nights.Q  Their  retreat  was  so  small  that  they  were 
obhged  to  remain  constantly  sitting  with  their  knees  bent  un- 
der them.  They  were  fed  upon  marmalade  and  sweetmeats, 
or  soups  and  broths,  that  were  conveyed  through  reeds  that 
passed  through  a  chimney  into  the  next  apartment.  They 
were  traced  by  their  pursuers  to  Hendlip,  and  a  magistrate 
came  with  his  officers  to  search  the  house.  He  was  received 
by  the  lady  of  the  house,  her  husband  being  absent,  with  an 
air  of  cheerfulness,  and  the  pursuers  were  told  that  their  prey 
had  escaped.  For  three  days  they  searched  the  house  in  vain. 
Every  apartment  was  carefully  examined ;  every  closet  open- 
ed ;  but  nothing  was  found.  On  the  fourth  day,  however, 
hunger  drove  the  prisoners  to  venture  imprudently  from  their 
retreat ;  they  were  seen  by  the  guards,  and  the  hiding-place 
discovered.  Pale  with  fasting  and  confinement.  Garnet  and 
his  companions  were  dragged  away  to  trial  and  death. 

Garnet's  trial  was  a  sad  and  repulsive  picture.^)  That  he 
was  guilty  of  sharing  in  the  plot  can  scarcely  be  doubted.  He 
professed,  indeed,  that  he  had  sought  to  dissuade  the  conspira- 
tors from  their  design ;  but  he  was  more  than  once  convicted 
of  falsehood  during  his  trial,  and  defended  his  want  of  truth- 
fulness on  the  ground  that  it  was  necessary  to  his  safety.  He 
was  condemned  and  executed.  The  Jesuits  looked  upon  him 
as  a  martyr,  and  a  famous  miracle  was  held  to  have  attested 
his  innocence.  Garnet's  straw  became  renowned  throughout 
Europe,  and  all  the  Catholic  courts  celebrated  in  ballads  and 
treatises  this  wonderful  exculpation  of  the  saint.(^)  The  mi- 
raculous straw  was  a  beard  of  wheat  on  which  a  Jesuit  student 
who  stood  by  at  Garnet's  execution  saw  a  drop  of  his  blood 
fall ;  as  he  stooped  to  look  upon  it  he  discovered  inscribed 
upon  the  straw  the  glorified  coimtenance  of  the  martyr,  crown- 
ed) Steinmetz,  ii.,  p.  207. 

(■)  Cr6tineau-Joly,  Hi.,  p.  112,  defeuds  hmi  feebly. 
(^)  Steiumetz,  ii.,  p.  244. 


136  LOYOLA  AND  THE  JESUITS. 

ed  and  bearing  a  cross  npon  its  brow.  Thousands  came  to 
see  the  wonderful  vision ;  nobles,  the  Spanish  embassador, 
the  Catholic  laity,  saw  and  believed.  The  miracle  was  told 
throii<!;hout  the  Christian  world.  Volumes  were  written  to 
defend  or  discredit  the  prodigy;  the  beard  of  wheat  was  en- 
graved by  skillful  artists  and  celebrated  by  ardent  poets ;  and 
it  was  never  suspected  that  the  rude  outlines  on  the  straw  had 
been  painted  by  the  skillful  touch  of  a  designing  priest. 

The  later  history  of  the  wonderful  brotherhood  has  been  a 
varied  series  of  disasters  and  success.  Always  united  in  a  com- 
pact phalanx,  the  Jesuits  have  fought  gallantly  to  conquer  the 
world.  Their  selfish  unity,  their  political  ambition,  their  ag- 
gressive vigor,  have  involved  them  in  endless  struggles.  Their 
bitterest  enemies  have  been  those  of  their  own  faith.  The 
secular  priests  in  every  land  decried  and  denounced  the  Jesu- 
its. In  England  they  accused  them  of  bringing  ruin  npon  the 
Church  by  their  imprudent  violence ;  and,  indeed,  the  Gun- 
powder Plot  seems  to  have  crushed  forever  the  hopes  of  the 
English  Catholics.  In  France  the  seculars  charged  them  with 
falsehood,  license,  and  every  species  of  crime.  Yet  the  Jesuit 
Father  Cotton  ruled  in  the  court  of  Henry  IV. ;  and  many 
years  later  the  destructive  energy  of  his  Jesuit  conf essors(')  led 
Louis  XIY.  to  revoke  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  commence  a 
general  persecution  of  the  Huguenots.  It  was  the  most  dis- 
astrous event  in  all  the  history  of  France ;  it  drove  from  her 
borders  her  best  intellect,  her  most  useful  population  ;  and  the 
horriWe  reaction  of  the  French  Revolution  may  be  in  great 
part  traced  to  the  results  of  Jesuit  bigotry.  For  if  Port  Roy- 
al had  been  suffered  to  stand,  and  the  Protestants  to  refine  and 
purify  the  French,  it  is  possible  that  no  revolution  would  ever 
have  been  needed.  In  Austria  the  Jesuits  were  equally  un- 
lucky. They  gained  a  complete  control  of  the  unhappy  land. 
They  taught  everywhere  passive  obedience.  They  urged  Ru- 
dolph II.  to  persecute  the  Protestants  of  Bohemia,  and  soon 
that  kingdom  was  tilled  with  woe ;  the  Protestants  were  roused 
to  madness,  and  a  spirit  of  vengeance  was  awakened  that  led 

(')  Cr^tineau-Joly,  iv.,  p.  40,  defends  tbe  confessors. 


FALL   OF  JESUITISM.  137 

finally  to  the  Thirty  Years'  War.  All  Germany  sprung  to 
arms ;  the  jjuritanic  Swede  came  down  from  thoughtful  Scan- 
dinavia and  crushed  Austria  and  Catholicism  to  the  earth; 
Prussia  now  rose  into  greatness,  and  the  hardy  North  slowly 
created  a  power  that  seems  destined  finally  to  complete  a  uni- 
ted and  Protestant  Germany.  If  the  Jesuits  had  not  excited 
the  Thirty  Years'  War,  Catholicism,  in  its  mildest  form,  might 
still  have  ruled  the  Germans.  In  Poland  and  in  Eussia  the 
political  labors  of  the  Jesuits  were  equally  unfortunate  for 
themselves  and  the  Eoman  See.  Yet  through  the  close  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  and  a  great  part  of  the  seventeenth,  the 
army  of  Loyola  presented  a  united  and  vigorous  front  to  its 
foes,  and  led  the  priestly  legions  of  Italy  and  Spain  in  their 
assaults  upon  the  revolted  North.  From  1550  to  the  year 
1700,  Jesuitism  played  its  important  part  in  the  politics  of  Eu- 
rope, Africa,  America,  and  the  East. 

But  now  disaster  and  destruction  fell  upon  the  wonderful 
brotherhood.  Moral  corruption  had  come  upon  them,  their 
intellects  had  sunk  into  feebleness,  and  the  fatal  mental  bond- 
age to  which  they  had  subjected  themselves  brought  with  it 
a  necessary  decay.  Jesuits  became  renowned  for  their  luxu- 
ry and  extravagance,  their  imperfect  discipline,  their  secret  or 
open  crimes.  They  had  triumphed  over  the  ruins  of  Port 
Koyal  and  the  Jansenists  ;  but  the  inspired  satire  of  the  most 
vigorous  of  modern  writers  had  pierced  the  diseased  frame  of 
the  society  with  deadly  wounds.  Pascal  avenged  Arnauld; 
and  literature  aimed  its  bolts  from  heaven  at  the  destroyers  of 
the  most  learned  of  monasteries.  The  Jesuits  were  pursued 
with  shouts  of  derision.  Their  tomes  of  casuistry,  in  which 
they  showed  how  vice  might  become  virtue  and  virtue  vice, 
were  dragged  into  the  light  and  commented  upon  by  the 
Northern  press.  They  were  accused  of  all  the  consequences 
of  their  argument.  Jesuits  were  called  regicides,  murderers, 
rebels,  the  enemies  of  mankind ;  and  at  length  the  kings  and 
priests  of  Europe,  aided  by  the  reluctant  Pope,  united  in  de- 
stroying the  army  of  Loyola.  Blow  after  blow  fell  upon  the 
once  omnipotent  Jesuits.  They  were  persecuted  in  every 
Catholic  laud  with  almost  as  much  rigor  as  they  themselves 


138  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

had  once  exercised  against  the  Calvinists  of  the  Netherlands 
or  the  Huguenots  of  France.  In  vain  they  boasted  their  de- 
votion to  Mary,  their  passive  fidelity  to  the  Pope ;  vainly  they 
invoked  the  sacred  names  of  Xavier  and  Ignatius.  By  a 
strange  retribution,  Portugal,(')  where  the  power  of  the  Jesuits 
had  iirst  been  felt  as  politicians,  and  which  they  had  aided  in 
delivering  into  the  hands  of  Philip  of  Spain,  was  to  set  the  ex- 
ample to  Em'ope  of  driving  them  from  its  midst.  Savoy,  in- 
deed, always  progressive,  had,  in  1728,  banished  the  order  from 
its  mountains;  but  to  Portugal  the  Jesuits  owed  their  first 
great  overthrow,  and  the  vigorous  Pombal  crushed  them  with 
an  iron  hand.  All  Jesuits  were  expelled  from  Portugal  and 
its  dependencies  in  1753,  upon  the  pretext  that  they  were  as- 
sassins and  conspirators  against  their  king.(^) 

France  was  the  next  of  the  avengers  of  uprooted  Port  Poy- 
al ;  but  here  the  honesty  of  a  Jesuit  confessor  may  have  has- 
tened their  fall.  De  Sacy  refused  to  shrive  Madame  de  Pom- 
padour, or  to  countenance  her  alliance  with  a  dissolute  king. 
The  enraged  woman  resolved  on  the  destruction  of  the  Jesuits. 
Louis  XV.  reluctantly  yielded  to  her  entreaties  and  the  clamor 
of  his  courtiers ;  and,  in  176-1,  a  Unal  decree  was  issued  expel- 
ling the  order  of  Ignatius  from  the  realm  of  France.  The 
Jesuits  fled  from  the  kingdom,  followed  by  the  jeers  and 
mockery  of  the  philosophers,  and  covered  with  an  infamy 
which  they  had  well  deserved.  Spain  and  Italy  alone  re- 
mained to  them,  for  Austria  was  already  planning  a  reform ; 
but  it  was  in  Spain  that  the  Jesuits  were  to  meet  with  their 
bitterest  overthrow.(')  In  their  native  land  they  had  won 
their  greatest  successes ;  their  colleges  in  every  Spanish  city 
were  rich  and  flourishing  beyond  example ;  their  wealth  and 
luxury  had  made  them  the  envy  of  the  Dominicans  and  the 
scourge  of  the  inferior  orders.  Yet  the  "  pious  "  Charles  III., 
moved  by  an  inexplicable  impulse,  had  learned  to  look  upon 
the  Jesuits  with  terror  and  aversion.     "I  have  learned  to 


(')  Cr6tineau-Joly,  v.,  p.  193. 

O  Id.,  v.,  p.  200,  relates  the  sufferings  of  the  Jesnits. 

O  Dauriguac,  li.,  pp.  151, 175. 


TEE  JESUITS  DRIVEN  FROM  SPAIN.  139 

know  them  too  well !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  sigh.  "  I  have 
been  already  too  lenient  to  so  dangerous  a  body."  Silently 
and  with  careful  preparation  their  ruin  was  planned.  A  se- 
cret edict  was  issued  to  Spain,  and  to  all  the  Spanish  domin- 
ions in  Africa,  Asia,  America,  directing  that  on  the  same  day 
and  hour,  in  every  part  of  the  realm,  the  Jesuit  colleges  should 
be  entered  by  the  officers  of  justice,  their  wealth  seized  and 
confiscated,  and  the  members  of  the  society  hurried  upon  ship- 
board and  forced  to  seek  some  new  home. 

One  can  scarcely  read  without  compassion  of  the  wide  suf- 
fering that  now  fell  upon  thousands  of  the  innocent  as  well  as 
of  the  guilty.  Armed  men  entered  the  Jesuit  establishments 
through  all  Spain,  and  made  their  inmates  prisoners.  They 
were  ordered  to  leave  the  country  instantly,  each  priest  being 
allowed  to  take  with  him  only  a  purse,  a  breviary,  and  some 
necessary  apparel. (')  Nearly  six  thousand  were  thus  seized, 
crowded  together  in  the  holds  of  ships,  and  sent  adrift  upon 
the  sea  with  no  place  of  refuge  and  no  means  of  support. 
Aged  priests,  often  of  illustrious  birth  or  famous  in  letters  and 
position  —  the  young,  burning  with  religious  zeal  —  the  sick, 
the  infirm,  set  sail  on  their  sad  pilgrimage  from  the  Spanish 
coast,  and  naturally  bent  their  way  toward  Italy  and  Eome, 
the  object  of  their  idolatrous  devotion.  But  the  Pope,  with 
signal  ingratitude  and  selfish  timidity,  refused  to  receive  the 
exiles.  Even  Ricci,  the  general  of  the  order,  would  not  suffer 
them  to  enter  Rome ;  and  the  miserable  Jesuits,  the  victims 
of  their  fatal  vow  of  obedience,  w^ere  scattered  as  starving 
wanderers  through  all  the  borders  of  Europe. Q 

In  the  Spanish  colonies  the  harsh  decree  was  executed  with 
a  similar  severity.  At  Lima  the  wealth  and  power  of  the  Jes- 
uits had  increased  to  regal  grandeur.  Their  great  college,  San 
Pedro,  possessed  enormous  revenues,  owned  the  finest  build- 
ings in  the  city,  and  held  immense  plantations  in  its  neighbor- 
hood. It  was  believed  that  the  vaults  of  the  college  were  fill- 
ed with  gold  and  silver,  and  the  Government  hoped  to  win  an 
extraordinary  prize  in  the  plunder  of  the  hidden  treasure.     A 


(')  Steinmetz,  ii.,  p.  463.  (')  Dauriguac,  ii.,  \f.  152. 


140  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

perfect  secrecy  was  observed  in  executing  the  king's  mandate, 
and  no  one  but  the  viceroy  and  his  agents  were  supposed  to 
know  any  thing  of  the  design.  At  ten  o'clock  at  night  the 
viceroy  summoned  his  council  together;  at  midnight  the  offi- 
cers knocked  at  the  gate  of  the  splendid  college  of  San  Pedro, 
hoping  to  find  the  Jesuits  unprepared,  and  with  no  means  of 
hiding  their  coveted  treasure.  But  they  found  every  priest 
awake,  dressed,  and  with  his  little  bundle  ready  to  set  out  on 
the  mournful  journey.  A  secret  message  had  been  sent  from 
Europe  warning  the  order  of  their  coming  doom.(')  The 
priests  were  hurried  away  to  the  ships  at  Callao,  and  sent  out 
to  sea,  while  the  officers  of  the  viceroy  searched  in  vain 
through  every  part  of  the  college  for  the  promised  hoard  of 
gold.  Instead  of  millions,  they  found  only  a  few  thousand 
dollars.  It  was  believed  that  the  wily  fathers  had  been  able 
to  bury  their  gold  in  such  a  way  that  none  but  themselves 
could  find  it.  An  old  negro  servant  related  that  he  and  his 
companions  had  been  employed  for  several  nights,  with  band- 
aged eyes,  in  carrying  great  bags  of  money  down  into  the 
vaults  of  the  college,  and  that  it  was  buried  in  the  earth,  close 
to  a  subterranean  spring.  But  the  place  has  never  been 
found.  The  Jesuit  treasure  in  Lima  is  still  searched  for,  like 
that  of  Captain  Kidd ;  while  some  assert  that  the  fathers  have 
contrived  to  abstract  it  gradually,  and  have  tlms  mocked  and 
bafiled  the  avarice  of  their  persecutors. 

At  last  came  the  final  blow  that  was  to  shatter  into  pieces 
the  great  army  of  Loyola.  For  more  than  two  centuries  the 
Jesuits  had  been  figliting  the  battles  of  Home.  To  exalt  the 
supremacy  of  the  Pope,  they  had  died  by  thousands  in  English 
jails  and  Indian  solitudes ;  had  pierced  land  and  sea  to  carry 
the  strange  story  of  the  primacy  to  heathen  millions,  and  to 
build  anew  the  medieval  Church  in  the  heart  of  Oriental  idol- 
atry. And  now  it  was  the  Pope  and  Eome  that  were  to  com- 
plete their  destruction.  By  a  cruel  ingratitude,  the  deity  on 
earth  whom  they  had  worshiped  with  a  fidelity  unequaled 
among  men  was  to  hurl  his  anathemas  against  his  most  faith- 

C)  Tschudi,  Travels  in  Peru,  p.  G7. 


TEE  ORDER  DISSOLVED.   \  141 

ful  disciples.  France  and  Spain  elected  Pope  Clement  XIV. 
upon  his  pledge  that  he  would  dissolve  the  order.  He  issued 
his  bull,  July  21st,  1773,  directing  that,  for  tlie  welfare  of  the 
Church  and  the  good  of  mankind,  the  institution  of  Loyola 
should  be  abolished.(')  The  Jesuits  protested  in  vain.  Ricci, 
the  general,  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  cardinals,  wept, 
entreated,  recalled  the  memories  of  Trent,  the  exploits  of  Loy- 
ola ;  and  suggested,  in  a  whisper,  that  Clement,  like  Judas, 
had  sold  his  Lord.  The  Pope,  not  long  after,  died  in  fearful 
torments.  The  Jesuits  were  allowed  to  preserve  a  secret  uni- 
ty ;  but  it  was  reported  once  more  that  the  horrible  custom  of 
the  Middle  Ages  had  been  revived ;  that  the  Pope  had  been 
carried  off  by  poison. 

Driven  from  their  almost  ancestral  homes  in  Spain,  Italy, 
Austria,  France,  the  Jesuits  found  a  liberal  welcome  in  the 
heart  of  Protestantism  itself.  Persecuted  like  heretics  by  the 
Church  of  Rome,  they  now  sought  a  shelter  in  those  free 
lands  against  which  they  had  once  aimed  its  spiritual  and 
temporal  arm.  And  it  is  curious  to  reflect  that  had  the  Jes- 
uits succeeded  in  their  early  design  of  subjecting  the  Korth, 
they  would  have  left  for  themselves  no  place  of  refuge  in 
their  hour  of  need.  To  their  enemies  of  the  sixteenth  cent- 
ury they  came  in  the  close  of  the  eighteenth,  asking  hospital- 
ity ;  and  the  disciples  of  Loyola  were  scattered  over  every 
part  of  Protestant  Europe,  as  teachers,  professors,  men  of  let- 
ters and  science,  and  were  everywhere  received  with  friendly 
consideration.  England,  charitably  overlooking  the  past,  saw 
Jesuit  colleges  and  schools  flourish  in  her  midst  without 
alarm.('')  Frederick  the  Great  opened  an  asylum  for  the  ex- 
iles in  Silesia.  Catherine  II.  welcomed  them  to  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  Greek  bishops  were  often  seen  mingling  in  friendly 
intercourse  with  the  members  of  the  once  hostile  company. 
Many  Jesuits  crossed  the  sea  to  the  free  lands  of  the  New 
"World.  Expelled  from  Lima,  and  persecuted  in  Brazil,  they 
founded  their  schools  freely  in  Louisville  and  New  York,  and 
flourished  with  vigor  under  institutions  and  laws  which  owed 

C)  Cr6tineau-Joly,  v.,  p.  376.  C)  Id.,  vi.,  p.  81. 


14:2  LOYOLA  AND   THE  JESUITS. 

their  birtli  to  the  teachings  of  Luther  and  Calvin.  The  doc- 
trine of  imiv^ersal  toleration  alone  saved  the  Jesuits  from  a 
complete  destruction ;  and  we  may  reasonably  trust  tliat,  as 
the  army  of  Loyola  recruits  its  shattered  strength  in  the  bo- 
som of  Protestantism  and  freedom,  it  will  show  its  gratitude 
by  abstaining  from  all  hostile  attempts  against  the  institutions 
by  which  it  is  nurtured ;  that  the  Jesuit  will  never  suffer  his 
promise  of  obedience  to  an  Italian  potentate  to  interfere  with 
his  obligation  to  free  thought,  free  schools,  and  a  free  press. 

Thus,  fostered  by  the  descendants  of  Ridley  and  Cranmer, 
and  sheltered  by  the  arm  of  schismatic  Russia,  the  fallen  soci- 
ety prolonged  its  existence.  At  length,  in  1814,  the  Bourbons 
were  restored  to  France,  and  Pope  Pius  YII.  revived  the  or- 
der of  the  Jesuits.  Their  college  at  Rome  was  given  back  to 
them  in  very  nearly  the  same  condition  in  which  tliey  had 
left  it  nearly  forty  years  before ;  but  their  magnificent  library 
was  scattered,  and  their  revenues  cut  off.  A  scanty  band  of 
eighty-six  fathers,  worn  with  toil  and  wandering,  made,  it  is 
said,  a  triumphal  entry  into  Rome,  amidst  the  acclamations  of 
its  people.(^)  Yet  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  the  fol- 
lowers of  Loyola  are  as  unpopular  with  the  citizens  of  the 
Holy  City  as  they  seem  ever  to  have  been  with  the  people  of 
all  Catholic  lands.  Isolated  by  their  fatal  vow  of  obedience, 
they  are  followed  everywhere  by  suspicion  and  dislike.  Rus- 
sia, which  had  received  them  in  their  hour  of  need,  expelled 
them  again  in  1816;^)  France  drove  them  out  in  1845;  the 
people  of  Madrid,  in  1835,  massacred  their  Jesuits;  the  Pope 
again  exiled  them  from  Rome ;  and  it  is  only  England  and 
America  that  even  in  the  present  day  afford  a  secure  asylum 
to  the  fallen  company. 

AVe  may  return  over  the  long  lapse  of  years  to  the  last  days 
of  Loyola,  the  wounded  cavalier  of  Pampeluna,  the  hermit  of 
Manreza.  In  the  year  1556,  a  comet  of  startling  magnitude, 
half  as  large  as  the  moon,  blazed  over  Europe  and  filled  the 
uncultivated  intellect  of  the  age  with  dread  and  expectation. 
Loyola  lay  on  his  dying  bed.     His  life  had  been  one  of  singu- 

(')  Dauriguac,  ii.,  p.  218.  C)  -ff?-,  "•,  P-  228. 


LOYOLA'S  DEATH.  143 

lar  success.  His  society  had  already  become  one  of  the  great 
powers  of  tlie  earth.  His  followers  were  estimated  to  num- 
ber many  thousands ;  and  the  last  injunctions  of  the  soldier- 
priest  were  chiefly  an  inculcation  of  passive  obedience.  It  is 
related  that  he  died  without  receiving  the  last  sacraments  of 
his  Church,  and  that  his  dying  lips  uttered  only  complaints 
and  lamentation.(')  Yet  his  fierce  and  aggressive  spirit  sur- 
vived in  his  successors,  and  the  generals  of  the  company  of 
Loyola  waged  incessant  war  against  the  rights  of  conscience 
and  the  simplicity  of  the  faith,  until  they  were  finally  over- 
thrown by  the  united  voice  of  Christendom. 

(')  Steinmetz,  i.,  p.  292 ;  Hasenm.,  Hist.  Jes.  Ord.,  xi.,  p.  320. 


ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

At  the  splendid  city  of  Nieaea,  in  Bitliynia,  in  the  year  325, 
assembled  the  first  of  those  great  ecumenical  councils  whose 
decrees  have  so  often  controlled  the  destiny  of  Christianity 
and  of  mankind.(')  It  was  an  occasion  of  triumph  and  fond 
congratulation,  for  the  Christian  Church  had  just  risen  up 
from  a  period  of  unexampled  humiliation  and  suffering  to 
rule  over  the  Roman  world.  For  nearly  three  centuries  since 
the  death  of  their  Divine  Head  his  pious  disciples  had  toiled 
in  purity  and  love,  persecuted  or  scorned  by  the  dominant  pa- 
gans, for  the  conversion  of  the  human  race ;  and  the  humble 
but  persistent  missionaries  had  sealed  with  innumerable  mar- 
tyrdoms and  ceaseless  woes  the  final  triumph  of  their  faith.f ) 
Yet  never  in  all  its  early  history  had  the  Christian  Church 
seemed  so  near  its  perfect  extinction  as  in  the  universal  perse- 
cution of  Diocletian  and  his  CjBsars,  when  the  pagan  rulers 
could  boast  with  an  appearance  of  truth  that  they  had  extir- 
pated the  hated  sect  with  fire  and  sword.  In  the  year  304, 
except  in  Gaul,  every  Christian  temple  lay  in  ruins,  and  the 
terrified  worshipers  no  longer  ventured  to  meet  in  their  sacred 
assemblies ;  the  holy  books  had  been  burned,  the  church  prop- 
erty confiscated  by  the  pagan  magistrates,  the  church  mem- 
bers had  perished  in  fearful  tortures,  or  fled  for  safety  to  the 
savage  wilderness ;  and  throughout  all  the  Eoman  world  no 
man  dared  openly  to  call  himself  a  Christian.(') 

Gradually,  with  the   slow  prevalence   of  Constantine  the 

(')  Eusebins,  De  Vita  Constantiiii,  iii.,  p.  6  et  scq.,  Quomodo  synodnm 
Nicaeae  fieri  jussit;  Eiifinus,  Historia  Eeclesiastica,  i.,  p.  11;  De  coucilio 
apiid  Nicseam,  etc. ;  Socrates,  Hist.  Ecc,  1.,  p.  8. 

O  Lactautius,  De  Mort.  Persec,  p.  15. 

O  Lactautius  (Do  Mort.  Pers.,  p.  50)  and  Prudeutius  (PeristepLanon, 
HyiuQ  xiii.,  s.)  describe  tbe  paius  of  martyrdom. 


THE  ASSEMBLING  AT  NICE.  145 

Great,  as  liis  victorious  legions  passed  steadily  onward  from 
Gaul  to  Italy,  and  from  Italy  to  Syria,  the  maimed  and  bleed- 
ing victims  of  persecution  came  out  from  their  hiding-places ; 
and  bishops  and  people,  purified  by  suffering,  celebrated  once 
more  their  holy  rites  in  renewed  simplicity  and  faith.  Yet  it 
was  not  until  the  year  preceding  the  first  Ecumenical  Coun- 
cil(')  that  the  Eastern  Christians  had  ceased  to  be  roasted  over 
slow  fires,  lacerated  with  iron  hooks,  or  mutilated  with  fatal 
tortures;  and  Lactantius,  a  contemporary,  could  point  to  the 
ruins  of  a  city  in  Phrygia  whose  whole  population  had  been 
burned  to  ashes  because  they  refused  to  sacrifice  to  Jupiter 
and  Juno.  And  now,  by  a  strange  and  sudden  revolution, 
the  martyr  bishops  and  presbyters  had  been  summoned  from 
their  distant  retreats  in  the  monasteries  of  the  Thebaid  or  the 
sands  of  Arabia,  from  Africa  or  Gaul,  to  cross  the  dangerous 
seas,  the  inclement  mountains,  and  to  meet  in  a  general  synod 
at  Nicsea,  to  legislate  for  the  Christian  world.  We  may  well 
conceive  the  joy  and  triumph  of  these  holy  fathers  as  they 
heard  the  glad  news  of  the  final  victory  of  the  faith,  and  has- 
tened in  long  and  painful  journeys  to  unite  in  fond  congratu- 
lations in  their  solemn  assembly ;  as  they  looked  for  tlie  first 
time  upon  each  other's  faces  and  saw  the  wounds  inflicted  by 
the  persecutor's  hand ;  as  they  gazed  on  the  blinded  eyes,  the 
torn  members,  the  emaciated  frames ;  as  they  encountered  at 
every  step  men  whose  fame  for  piety,  genius,  and  learning 
was  renowned  from  Antioch  to  Cordova ;  or  studied  with 
grateful  interest  the  form  and  features  of  the  imperial  cate- 
chumen, who,  although  the  lowest  in  rank  of  all  the  church 
dignitaries,  had  made  Christianity  the  ruling  faith  from  Brit- 
ain to  the  Arabian  Sea.(°) 

Nice,  or  Nicsea,  a  fair  and  populous  Greek  city  of  Asia 
Minor,  had  been  appointed  by  Constantine  as  the  place  of 
meeting  for  the  council,  probably  because  the  fine  roads  that 
centred  from  various  directions  in  its  market-place  offered  an 

Q)  Sozomen,  Hist.  Ecc,  i.,  p.  7  ;  Lactantius,  De  Mort.  Pers.,  p.  51 :  ''  Pleui 
carceres  erant.     Torraeuta  genera  inaiulita  excogitabantur." 

(°)  Eusebius,  De  Vita  Constantini,  iii.,  p.  7  ;  Rufiuus,  Hist.  Ecc,  i.,  p.  2. 

10 


146  ECVMEXICAL   COUNCILS. 

easy  access  to  the  pilgrims  of  the  East.  The  city  stood — its 
ruins  still  stand — on  the  shores  of  Lake  Ascania,  not  far  from 
the  Mediterranean  Sea,  and  on  the  way  to  the  plains  of  Troy ; 
it  had  been  adorned  with  line  buildings  by  the  kings  of  Bi- 
thynia,  and  enriched  by  the  Roman  emperors ;  in  later  ages  it 
was  shaken  by  a  great  earthquake  just  after  the  council  had 
dissolved ;  it  became  the  prey  successively  of  the  Saracen,  the 
Turk,  and  the  Crusaders ;  and  when  a  modern  traveler  visited 
its  site  to  gaze  on  the  scene  where  Athanasius  had  ravished 
pious  ears  by  his  youthful  eloquence,  and  where  Constantine 
had  assembled  the  Christian  world,  he  found  only  a  waste  of 
ruins  in  the  midst  of  the  ancient  walls.  The  lake  was  still 
there ;  the  fragments  of  aqueducts,  theatres,  temples.  A  vil- 
lage of  a  few  hundred  houses,  supported  chiefly  by  the  culture 
of  the  mulberry-tree,  sheltered  beneath  its  ruined  walls;  and 
an  ill-built  Greek  church,  of  crumbling  brick-work  and  mod- 
ern architecture,  was  pointed  out  to  the  traveler  as  the  place 
where  had  met,  nearly  fifteen  centuries  before,  the  Council  of 
Nice.(') 

The  bishops,  in  number  three  hundred  and  eighteen,  to- 
gether with  many  priests  and  other  oflicials,  assembled  prompt- 
ly at  the  call  of  the  emperor,  and  in  June,  325,  met  in  a  ba- 
silica or  public  hall  in  the  centre  of  the  city.  Few  particulars 
are  preserved  of  the  proceedings  of  the  great  council,  and  we 
are  forced  tO' gather  from  the  allusions  of  the  historians  a  gen- 
eral conception  of  its  character.  Yet  we  know  that  it  was  the 
purest,  the  wisest,  as  well  as  the  first,  of  all  the  sacred  synods ; 
that  its  members,  tested  in  afl^liction  and  humbled  by  persecu- 
tion, preserved  much  of  the  grace  and  gentleness  of  the  apos- 
tolic age ;  that  no  fierce  anathemas,  like  those  that  fell  from 
the  lips  of  the  papal  bishops  of  Trent  or  Constance,  defiled 
those  of  Ilosius  or  Eusebius  ;Q  that  the  pagan  doctrine  of 
persecution  had  not  yet  been  introduced,  together  with  the 


Q)  Pococke,  Travels,  ii.,  p.  25. 

O  The  creed  has  a  moderate  anathema  (Rufiuus,  H.  E.,  i.,  p.  6) ;  hut,  we 
may  trust,  conceived  in  a  different  sjiirit  from  the  anathemas  which  meant 
death. 


THE   TOWN-HALL  AT  NICE.  147 

pagan  ritual,  into  the  Christian  Church  ;  that  no  vain  supersti- 
tions were  inculcated,  and  no  cruel  deeds  enjoined;  that  no 
Huss  or  Jerome  of  Prague  died  at  the  stake  to  gratify  the 
hate  of  a  dominant  sect,  and  that  no  Luther  or  Calvin  was 
shut  out  by  the  dread  of  a  similar  fate  from  sharing  in  the 
earliest  council  .of  the  Christian  world.  The  proceedings  went 
on  with  dignity  and  moderation,  and  men  of  various  shades  of 
opinion,  but  of  equal  purity  of  life,  were  heard  with  attention 
and  respect;  the  rules  of  the  Roman  Senate  were  probably 
imitated  in  the  Christian  assembly;  the  emperor  opened  the 
council  in  a  speech  inculcating  moderation,  and  an  era  of  be- 
nevolence and  love  seemed  about  to  open  upon  the  triumph- 
ant Church. 

In  the  town -hall  at  Xice,  seated  probably  upon  rows  of 
benches  that  ran  around  the  room,  were  seen  the  representa- 
tive Christians  of  an  age  of  comparative  purity,  and  the  first 
meeting  of  these  holy  men  must  have  formed  a  scene  of  touch- 
ing interest.  The  martyrs  who  had  scarcely  escaped  with  life 
from  the  tortures  of  the  pagans  stood  in  the  first  rank  in  the 
veneration  of  the  assembly  ;  and  when  Paplinutius,(')  a  bishop 
of  the  Thebaid,  entered  the  hall,  dragging  a  disabled  limb 
which  had  been  severed  while  he  worked  in  the  mines,  and 
turned  upon  the  by-standers  his  sightless  eye,  or  when  Paul, 
Bishop  of  Neo-CaBsarea,  raised  in  blessing  his  hand  maimed 
by  the  fire,  a  thrill  of  sympathy  and  love  stirred  the  throng  as 
they  gazed  on  the  consecrated  wounds.  The  solitaries,  whose 
strange  austerities  had  filled  the  Christian  world  with  wonder, 
attracted  an  equal  attention.  From  the  desert  borders  of 
Persia  and  Mesopotamia,  where  he  had  lived  for  years  on 
vegetables  and  wild  fruits,  came  James  of  Nisibis,  the  modern 
Baptist,  who  was  known  by  his  raiment  of  goats'  or  camels' 
hair ;  and  near  him  was  the  Bishop  of  Heraclea,  a  faithful  fol- 
lower of  the  ascetic  Anthony,  the  author  of  the  monastic  rule. 
There,  too,  was  the  gentle  Spiridion,(°)  the  shepherd-bishoj)  of 

(')  Kufiiius,  i.,  p.  4,  De  Paphnutio  Confessore. 

(^)  Rnfiuus,  i.,  p.  5.  Socrates,  i.,  p.  53,  varies  the  story  slightly.  See 
Hefole,  Conciliengeschichte,  i.,  p.  271. 


148  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

Cyprus,  Avho  still  kept  his  flock  after  lie  had  won  a  diocese, 
and  Avlio,  when  robbers  came  to  steal  his  sheep,  said,  "  Why- 
did  you  not  take  the  trouble  to  ask  for  them,  and  I  would 
have  given  them  to  you  V  And  there  was  the  tender-hearted 
St.  Kicholas,  the  friend  of  little  children,  whose  name  is  still 
a  symbol  of  joy  to  those  he  loved.  There,  too,  were  men  of 
rare  genius  and  learning,  who  had  studied  in  the  famous 
schools  of  Athens  or  Alexandria,  whose  writings  and  whose 
eloquence  had  aroused  the  bitterest  hatred  of  the  j)agans,  and 
who  were  believed  by  their  contemporaries  to  have  rivaled 
and  outdone  the  highest  efforts  of  the  heathen  mind.  Chief 
among  these  men  of  intellect  was  the  young  presbyter  Atha- 
nasius,(')  and  it  was  to  him  that  the  Council  of  Nice  was  to 
owe  its  most  important  influence  on  mankind.  The  enthusi- 
asm of  Athanasius  was  tempered  by  the  prudence  of  Hosius, 
the  Trinitarian  bishop  of  Cordova,  and  by  the  somewhat  latitu- 
dinarian  liberality  of  Eusebius  of  Csesarea ;  and  these  two  able 
men,  both  close  friends  of  the  Emperor  Constantine,  probably 
guided  the  council  to  moderation  and  peace.  Sylvester,  Bish- 
op of  Rome,  too  feeble  to  bear  the  fatigues  of  the  journey, 
sent  two  priests  to  represent  him  in  the  synod-^*)  Eight  bish- 
ops of  renown  from  the  West  sat  with  their  Eastern  brethren, 
and  in  the  crowded  assembly  were  noticed  a  Persian  and  a 
Goth,  the  representatives  of  the  barbarians.  A  strange  diver- 
sity of  language  and  of  accent  prevailed  in  the  various  deputa- 
tions, and  a  day  of  Pentecost  seemed  once  more  to  have  dawn- 
ed upon  the  Church.  In  the  upper  end  of  the  hall,  after  all 
had  taken  their  places,  a  golden  chair  was  seen  below  the  seats 
of  the  bishops,  which  Avas  still  vacant.  At  length  a  mail  of  a 
tall  and  noble  figure  entered.  His  head  was  modestly  bent  to 
the  ground ;  his  countenance  must  have  borne  traces  of  con- 
trition and  woe.  He  advanced  slowly  up  the  hall,  between 
the  assembled  bishops,  and,  having  obtained  their  permission. 


(')  Socrates,  i.,  p.  8. 

(*)  The  Romish  writers  claim  that  Hosius  was  a  papal  legate.  See  Con- 
cilionim,  ii.,  p.  222.  But  he  presided,  uo  doubt,  as  the  friend  of  the  em- 
peror. 


COXSTANTINE'S   CRIME.  149 

seated  himself  in  tlie  golden  cbair.(')     It  was  Constantine,  the 
head  of  the  Cliurch. 

A  tragic  interest  must  ever  hang  over  the  career  of  the  first 
Christian  emperor,  whose  private  griefs  seem  to  have  more 
than  counterbalanced  the  uninterrupted  successes  of  his  pub- 
lic life.  In  his  vouth  Constantine  had  married  Minervina,  a 
maiden  of  obscure  origin  and  low  rank,  but  who  to  her  de- 
voted and  constant  lover  seemed  no  doubt  the  first  and  fairest 
of  women.  Their  only  son,  Crispus,  educated  by  the  learned 
and  pious  Lactantius,  grew  up  an  amiable,  exemplary  young 
man,  and  fought  bravely  by  his  father's  side  in  the  battle  that 
made  Constantine  the  master  of  the  world.  But  Constantine 
had  now  married  a  second  time,  for  ambition  rather  than  love, 
Fausta,  the  daughter  of  the  cruel  Emperor  Maximian  ;  and  his 
high-born  wife,  who  had  three  sons,  looked  with  jealousy  upon 
the  rising  virtues  and  renown  of  the  amiable  Crispus.  She 
taught  her  husband  to  believe  that  his  eldest  son  had  conspired 
against  his  life  and  his  crown.  Already,  when  Constantine 
summoned  the  council  at  Kice,  his  mind  was  tortured  by  sus- 
picion of  one  whom  he  probably  loved  with  strong  affection. 
He  had  perhaps  resolved  upon  the  death  of  Crispus ;  and  he 
felt  with  shame,  if  not  contrition,  his  own  unworthiness  as  he 
entered  the  Christian  assembly.  Soon  after  the  dissolution  of 
the  council  the  tragedy  of  the  palace  began  (326)  by  the  ex- 
ecution of  Crispus,  by  the  orders  of  his  father,  together  with 
his  young  cousin,  Licinius,  the  son  of  Constantine's  sister,  and 
a  large  number  of  their  friends.  The  guilty  arts  of  Fausta, 
however,  according  to  the  Greek  historians,  were  soon  dis- 
covered and  revealed  to  the  emperor  by  his  Christian  moth- 
er, Helena.  He  was  filled  with  a  boundless  remorse.  The 
wretched  empress  was  put  to  death ;  and  the  close  of  Con- 
stantine's  life  was  passed  in  a  vain  effort  to  obtain  the  for- 
giveness of  his  own  conscience  and  of  Heaven.(') 

(*)  Eusebins,  De  Vita  Const.,  clothes  him  in  rich  robes,  iii.,  p.  8,  but  as- 
serts his  modesty.  It  is  uiiceitaiu  whether  the  golden  chair  was  not  in 
the  niidst  of  the  assembly.     See  Theodoret,  H.  Ecc,  i.,  p.  7. 

(^)  Eiisebius  covers  tlio  faults  of  Constantine  with  iiancgyric.  Gibbon, 
ii.,  p.  67-72,  condenses  Zosimus.     He  donbts  the  death  of  Fausta. 


150  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

But  when  Constantine  entered  the  Council  of  Nice  his  life 
was  still  comparatively  spotless.(')  lie  was  believed  to  have 
inherited  all  the  virtues  of  his  excellent  father  and  his  pious 
mother.  To  the  simple  and  holy  men  who  now  for  the  first 
time  looked  upon  their  preserver  as  he  modestly  besought  in- 
stead of  commanded  their  attention,  he  must  have  seemed,  in 
liis  humility  and  his  grandeur,  half  divine.  But  lately  his 
sinffle  arm  had  rescued  them  from  the  jaws  of  a  horrible 
death.  He  had  saved  the  Church  from  its  sorrows,  and  pub- 
lished the  Gospel  to  mankind.  He  was  the  most  powerful 
monarch  the  world  had  ever  known,  and  his  empire  spread 
from  the  Grampian  Hills  to  the  ridge  of  the  Atlas,  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Caspian  Sea.  He  was  the  invincible  conquer- 
or, the  hero  of  his  age ;  yet  now  monks  and  solitaries  heard 
him  profess  himself  their  inferior,  a  modest  catechumen,  and 
ui-gc  upon  his  Christian  brethren  harmony  and  union.  A 
miracle,  too  —  the  most  direct  interference  from  above  since 
the  conversion  of  St.  Paul — had  thrown  around  Constantine 
a  mysterious  charm ;  and  probably  few  among  the  assembled 
bishops  but  had  heard  of  the  cross  of  light  that  had  outshone 
the  sun  at  noonday,  of  the  inscription  in  the  skies,  and  of  the 
perpetual  victory  promised  to  their  imperial  head.(")  When, 
therefore,  Constantine  addressed  the  council,  he  was  heard 
with  awe  and  fond  attention.  His  Christian  sentiments  con- 
trolled the  assembly,  and  he  decided,  perhaps  against  his  own 
convictions,  the  opinions  of  future  ages. 

The  council  had  been  summoned  by  the  emperor  to  deter- 
mine the  doctrine  of  the  Church.  Heresy  was  already  abun- 
dant and  prolific.  The  opinions  of  Christians  seemed  to  vary 
according  to  their  origin  or  nationality.  But  the  acute  and 
active  intellect  of  the  Greeks,  ever  busy  with  the  deeper  in- 
quiries of  philosophy  and  eager  for  novelty,  had  poured  forth 
a  profusion  of  sti-ange  speculations  which  alarmed  or  embar- 


(' )  Eutropius,  Hist.  Rom.,  x.,  pp.  6,  7,  notices  the  change — the  fall  of  Con- 
stantine.    He  is  an  impartial  witness. 

{'^)  Constantine's  dream  or  vision  -was  affirmed  by  his  oath  to  Ensebius, 
and  was  believed  by  his  contemporaries.     See  Ensebius,  Vita  Const. 


.    VAEIOUS  HERESIES.  151 

rassed  the  duller  Latins.  Rome,  cold  and  unimaginative,  liad 
been  Ion 2:  accustomed  to  receive  its  abstract  doctrines  from 
the  East,  but  it  seemed  quite  time  that  these  principles  of 
faith  should  be  accurately  defined.  Heresies  of  the  wildest 
extravagance  were  widely  popular.  The  Gnostics,  or  the  su- 
perior minds,  had  covered  the  plain  outline  of  the  Scriptures 
with  Platonic  commentaries ;  the  theory  of  eons  and  of  an 
eternal  wisdom  seemed  about  to  supplant  the  teachings  of 
Paul.(')  Among  the  wildest  of  the  early  sectaries  were  the 
Ophites,  or  snake-worshipers,  who  adored  the  eternal  wisdom 
as  incarnate  in  the  form  of  a  snake ;  and  who,  at  the  celebra- 
tion of  the  sacred  table,  suffered  a  serpent  to  crawl  over  the 
elements,  and  to  be  devoutly  kissed  by  the  superstitious  Chris- 
tians.Q  The  Sethites  adored  Seth  as  the  Messiah ;  the  Cain- 
ites  celebrated  Judas  Iscariot  as  the  prince  of  the  apostles; 
Manes  introduced  from  the  fire-worship  of  the  Persians  a  the- 
ory of  the  conflict  of  light  and  darkness,  in  which  Christ  con- 
tended as  the  Lord  of  Light  against  the  demons  of  the  night  ;(^) 
and  Montanus  boldly  declared  that  he  was  superior  in  morali- 
ty to  Christ  the  Messiah  and  his  apostles,  and  was  vigorously 
sustained  by  the  austere  Tertullian.  Yet  these  vain  fancies 
might  have  been  suffered  to  die  in  neglect ;  it  was  a  still  more 
vital  controversy  that  called  forth  the  assembly  at  Nice.  This 
w^as  no  less  than  the  nature  of  the  Deity. Q  What  did  the 
Scriptures  tell  us  of  that  Divine  Being  who  was  the  author  of 
Christianity,  and  on  whom  for  endless  ages  the  destiny  of  the 
Church  was  to  rest?  The  Christian  world  was  divided  into 
two  fiercely  contending  parties.  On  the  one  side  stood  Rome, 
Alexandria,  and  the  A¥est ;  on  the  other,  Arius,  many  of  the 
Eastern  bishops,  and  perhaps  Constantine  himself.  It  is  j)lain, 
therefore,  that  the  emperor  was  sincei'e  in  his  profession  of 
humility  and  submission,  since  he  suffered  the  council  to  de- 
termine the  controversy  uninfluenced  by  superior  power. 
A  striking  simplicity  marked  the  proceedings  of  the  first 

(')  See  Mosbeim,  Ecc.  Hist.,  i.,  p.  169. 

(^)  Mosheim,  i.,  yt.  180  et  seq.,  auil  uote. 

C)  Id.,  I,  p.  232.  C)  Hefele,  i.,  p.  2C6. 


152  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

council.  ITosiiis,  Bishop  of  Cordova,  presided,  the  only  repre- 
sentative of  Spain,  Ganl,  and  Britain.  A  prelate  opened  the 
meeting  with  a  short  address,(')  a  hymn  was  sung,  then  Con- 
stantino delivered  his  well-timed  speech  on  harmony,  and  the 
general  debate  began.  It  was  conducted  always  with  vigor, 
sometimes  with  rude  asperity ;  but  when  the  war  of  recrimi- 
nation rose  too  high,  the  emperor,  who  seems  to  have  attend- 
ed the  sittings  regularly,  would  interpose  and  calm  the  strife 
by  soothing  words.  The  question  of  clerical  marriages  was 
discussed,  and  it  was  determined,  by  the  arguments  of  Paph- 
nutius,  the  Egyptian  ascetic,  that  the  lower  orders  should  be 
allowed  to  marry.  Tlie  jurisdiction  of  the  bishops  was  de- 
lined  ;  all  were  allowed  to  be  equal ;  but  Rome,  Antioch,  and 
Alexandria,  the  chief  cities  of  the  enquire  before  Constanti- 
nople was  built,  held  each  a  certain  supremacy.  The  prima- 
cy of  St.  Peter  was  never  mentioned ;  the  worship  of  Mary, 
Queen  of  Heaven,  was  yet  unknown  ;  but  the  earlier  form  of 
the  Nicene  Creed  was  determined,  and  Arius  was  condemned. 
Twenty  canonsQ  were  passed  upon  by  the  council,  many  of 
which  were  soon  neglected  and  forgotten ;  and  when,  after 
sitting  for  two  months,  the  assembly  separated,  every  one  felt 
that  the  genius  and  eloquence  of  Athanasius  had  controlled 
both  emperor  and  Church. 

Before  parting  from  his  Christian  brothers — his  "  beloved," 
as  he  was  accustomed  to  call  them — Constantine  entertained 
the  council  at  a  splendid  banquet,(')  and  spread  before  them 
the  richest  wines  and  the  rarest  viands  of  the  East.  The  un- 
lettered soldier  probably  shone  better  in  his  costly  entertain- 
ment than  in  debate,  where  his  indifferent  Latin  and  broken 
Greek  must  have  awakened  a  smile  on  the  a'rave  faces  of  his 
learned  brothers.  Here  he  could  flatter  and  caress  with  easy 
familiarity ;  he  was  a  pleasant  companion  and  a  winning  host ; 
but  we  are  not  told  whether  he  was  able  to  persuade  James  of 

(')  Ensebins,  De  Vita  Const.,  iii.,  p.  11 ;  Socrates,  i.,  p.  8.  The  emperor's 
speech  is  excellent,  and  the  catechumen  was  ^viser  than  his  superiors. 

O  The  number  has  been  enlarged  by  numerous  additions  (see  Concilio- 
rum,  ii.,  p.  233),  and  one  clause  introduced  to  imply  the  primacy,  ii.,  p.  2'36. 

(')  Eusebius,  Dc  Vita  Const.,  iii.,  pp.  15,  IG. 


UXIOX  OF  THE   CHURCH.  153 

Nisibis  to  taste  his  rare  dainties,  or  to  entice  tlie  anchorites 
of  Egypt  to  his  costly  wine.  The  bishops  and  their  followers 
left  Nicsea  charmed  with  the  conrtesy  and  liberality  of  their 
master.  He  had  paid  all  their  expenses,  and  maintained  them 
with  elecjance  at  Xicsea,  had  condescended  to  call  them  broth- 
ers,  and  had  sent  them  home  by  the  public  conveyances  to 
spread  everywhere  the  glad  news  that  an  era  of  peace  and 
union  awaited  the  triumphant  Church. (') 

Happy  delusion !  But  it  was  rudely  dissipated.  From 
Constantino  himself  came  the  fatal  blow  that  tilled  all  Chris- 
tendom with  a  perpetual  unrest.Q  It  was  the  emperor  who 
corrupted  the  Church  he  had  seemed  to  save.  Soon  after  the 
council,  that  dark  shadow  fell  upon  Constantino's  life  which 
was  noticed  by  pagan  and  Christian  observers,  and  he  was 
pointed  out  by  men  as  a  parricide  whose  sin  was  inexpiable. 
The  pagan  Zosimus  represents  him  as  asking  the  priests  of  the 
ancient  faith  whether  his  offense  could  ever  be  atoned  for  by 
their  lustrations,  and  to  have  been  told  that  for  him  there  was 
no  hope ;  but  that  the  Christians  allured  him  to  their  com- 
munion by  a  promise  of  ample  forgiveness.  Yet  from  this 
period  the  mind  of  the  great  'emperor  grew  clouded,  and  the 
fearful  shock  of  his  lost  happiness  seems  to  have  deadened  his 
once  vigorous  faculties.(^)  He  became  a  tyrant,  made  and  un- 
made bishops  at  will,  and  persecuted  all  those  who  had  op- 
posed the  doctrines  of  Arius.Q  The  Church  became  a  State 
establishment,  and  all  the  ills  that  flow  from  that  unnatural 
miion  fell  upon  the  hapless  Christians.  Pride,  luxury,  and  li- 
cense distinguished  the  haughty  bishops,  who  ruled  like  princes 
over  their  vast  domains,  and  who  imitated  the  emperor  in  per- 
secuting, with  relentless  vigor,  all  who  differed  from  them  in 


(')  Riifinns,  Hist.  Ecc,  i.,  p.  2 ;  Eusebiiis,  De  Vita  Coust.,  iii.,  p.  IG ;  Tbe- 
odoret,  i.,  p.  11. 

('■*)  Sozomen,  Hist.  Ecc,  i.,  p.  20.  See  Hefele,  i.,  p.  427  et  scq. :  "Aber  das 
hiii'etische  Feuer  war  damit  nocli  nicht  erstickt." 

(')  His  letters  (see  Socrates,  i.,  p.  9)  are  wise  aud  not  ungentle;  his  con- 
duct was  different. 

(')  Socrates,  i.,  p.  14.  He  soon  recalled  Ensebins  of  Nicomedia  from  ban- 
isbment — a  measure  of  wisdom — but  persecutes  Atlianasins. 


154  ECUMEXICAL   COUXCILS. 

faitli.  Bishop  excommunicated  bishop,  and  fatal  anathemas, 
too  dreadful  to  fall  from  the  lips  of  feeble  and  dying  ipen, 
were  the  common  weapon  of  religious  controversy.  They  pre- 
tended to  the  right  of  consigning  to  eternal  woe  the  souls  of 
the  hapless  dissidents.  They  brought  bloodshed  and  murder 
into  the  controversies  of  the  Church.  Formalism  succeeded  a 
living  faith,  and  lieligion  fled  from  her  high  station  among 
the  rulers  of  Christendom  to  find  shelter  in  her  native  scene 
among  the  suffering  and  the  poor.  There  we  may  trust  she 
survived,  during  this  mournful  period,  the  light  of  the  peas- 
ant's cottage  or  the  anchorite's  cell. 

IS'ever  again  did  the  higher  orders  of  Christendom  regain  the 
respect  of  mankind.  Constantino  himself,  clothed  in  Orient- 
al splendor,  with  painted  cheeks,  false  hair,  and  a  feeble  show, 
seems  to  have  sought  oblivion  for  his  crime  in  reckless  dissi- 
pation. He  became  cruel,  morose,  suspicious.  He  was  al- 
ways fond  of  religious  disputation,  and  his  courtly  and  ef- 
feminate bishops  seem  to  have  yielded  to  his  idle  whim.  At 
length  he  died  (337),  having  been  baptized  not  long  before 
for  the  expiation  of  his  sins,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  three 
worthless  sons.  A  period  of  fierce  religious  controversy  now 
prevailed  for  many  years,  of  which  the  resolute  hero  Ath- 
anasius.  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  was  the  author  and  the  victim.(') 
In  32G,  Athaiuisius  became  the  patriarch  of  that  gay,  splendid, 
and  powerful  city,  and  ruled  at  times  with  vigor,  but  oftener 
was  a  persecuted  exile,  hidden  in  Gaul  or  among  the  rocks  and 
sands  of  Egypt.  The  fire  of  genius  survived  in  this  remark- 
able man  the  pains  of  age  and  the  humiliation  of  exile.  He 
never  ceased  to  write,  to  preach,  and  to  argue  with  unabated 
power.  Constantius  became  sole  emperor,  and  the  chief  aim 
of  his  corrupt  reign  seems  to  have  been  to  destroy  the  influ- 
ence and  the  opinions  of  the  greatest  of  polemics.  The  whole 
Christian  world  seemed  united  ao-ainst  Athanasius.  The  Bisli- 
op  of  Eome,  Liberius,(')  and  even  the  pious  Hosius,  joined 

(')  See  Socrates,  i.,  p.  29  et  seq.,  wbo  defends  Constautine. 

(^)  Milman  (Hist.  Christianity,  ii.,  p.  431),  Mosheiin,  and  Guericke  assert 
the  apostasy  of  the  Pope.  It  is  feebly  explained  by  the  Eomisli  writers. 
So,  too,  Athanasius  himself  asserts  it.     See  Hefele,  i.,  p.  658. 


THE  SECOND   COUNCIL.  155 

with  the  imperial  faction  in  renouncing  the  doctrine  of  the 
Nicene  Council;  yet  Athanasius,  sheltered  in  the  wilds  of 
Egypt,  maintained  the  unecjual  strife,  and  may  be  safely  said 
to  have  molded  by  his  vigorous  resistance  the  opinions  of  all 
succeeding  ages.  But  the  period  of  Anathasius  was  one  upon 
which  neitlier  party  could  look  with  satisfaction.  The  princi- 
ples of  Christianity  were  forgotten  in  the  memorable  struggle. 
Both  factions  became  bitter  persecutors,  blood-thirsty  and  ty- 
rannical. Even  Athanasius  condescended  to  duplicity  in  his 
argument,  and  cruelty  in  his  conduct ;  the  most  orthodox  of 
bishops  may  be  convicted  of  pious  frauds  or  brutal  violence ; 
and  the  meek  and  lowly  Christians  of  that  unhappy  age  prob- 
ably gazed  with  wonder  and  shame  on  the  crimes  and  follies 
of  their  superiors.(') 

The  second  Ecumenical  Council  met  in  the  year  381,  at  Con- 
stantinople, under  the  reign  of  Theodosius  the  Great.  The 
story  of  this  famous  synod  has  lately  been  told  by  M.  De 
Broglie,  a  moderate  Romanist,  and  the  grandson  of  the  gifted 
De  Stael.(°)  His  narrative  is  trustworthy,  although  uncritical ; 
and  his  honest  picture  of  the  stormy  sessions  of  the  great 
Constantinopolitan  Council  shows  how  corrupt,  even  in  his 
guarded  opinion,  had  become  the  exterior  organization  of  the 
Church.  A  similar  account  is  given  by  all  the  other  authori- 
ties. Happily,  the  people  were  always  better  and  wiser  than 
their  rulers.  The  true  Church  lived  among  the  humble  and 
the  poor.  The  Catliari,  or  early  Protestants,  the  Waldenses, 
and  the  Albigenses  indicate  that  moral  purity  was  never  whol- 
ly extinct,  and  that  the  industry,  probity,  and  progress  inculca- 
ted by  St.  Paul  still  shed  peace  and  hope  over  the  homes  of 
the  lowly.  There  was  one  eminent  intellect,  too,  of  that  cor- 
rupt age,  educated  among  the  highest  ranks  of  the  clergy,  who 
has  painted  Avith  no  gentle  touch  the  harsher  lineaments  of 
the  second  council.(^)     Gregory  Nazianzen  repeats  in  his  let- 

(')  Mosheim,  i.,  p.  321,  notices  that  most  of  the  noted  fathers  of  this  pe- 
riod, were  capable  of  pious  frauds. 

O  L'figlise  et  I'Empire  Komaiu  au  IV""'  Siecle,  v.,  p.  403  et  seq. 

(^)  Gregory,  De  Vita  Sua,  and  in  yarions  poems  and  orations,  describes 
the  bishops  of  his  time  in  no  fluttering  terms.     See  his  poem  Ad  Episcopos. 


156  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

ters,  sermons,  and  autobiographical  poems  what  was  the  popu- 
lar conception  of  the  rulers  of  the  Church.  Gregory  was  the 
son  of  the  Bishop  of  Nazianzus.  His  youth  had  been  spent 
in  study  and  learned  ease.  He  was  himself  already  the  titular 
Bishop  of  Sasima,  but  lie  had  contented  himself  with  assist- 
ing his  father  in  his  rustic  diocese,  and  shrunk  from  public  life 
with  awkward  modesty.(')  His  wonderful  eloquence  and  vig- 
orous powers  seem,  however,  to  have  become  widely  known, 
when  a  new  field  was  suddenly  opened  to  him  for  their  prac- 
tical employment,  which  his  conscience  would  not  permit  him 
to  decline.  The  magnificent  city  of  Constantinople  had,  ever 
since  its  foundation,  been  in  the  hands  of  Arian  prelates,  and 
its  crowded  churches  refused  to  accept  the  canons  of  the  Coun- 
cil of  Nice.  But  an  orthodox  emperor,  the  rough  and  honest 
Spanish  soldier  Theodosius,  was  now  on  the  Koman  throne ; 
and  a  small  band  of  faithful  Athanasians  at  Constantinople 
thought  this  a  favorable  moment  for  attempting  the  conver- 
sion of  the  Imperial  City.  They  looked  over  the  Christian 
world  for  a  suitable  pastor.  They  might  have  selected  Basil 
the  Great,  but  his  age  and  infirmities  prevented  him  from 
leaving  his  Eastern  see ;  they  sent,  therefore,  to  claim  the 
services  of  Gregory,  as  the  next  most  eminent  of  the  Oriental 
divines. 

Little  did  Gregory  foresee  the  cares  and  woes,  the  shame 
and  disappointment,  that  lay  hidden  in  his  future !  Reluctant- 
ly he  accepted  the  invitation,  and  left  his  rustic  home  to  enter 
the  luxurious  capital.  He  was  already  prematurely  old  and 
infirm.  His  head  was  bald,  except  for  a  few  gray  hairs ;  his 
figure  was  bent  with  age,  his  appearance  insignificant.  His 
manner  was  modest  and  timid,  and  no  careless  observer  would 
have  discovered  in  the  rustic  old  man  the  most  splendid  and 
successful  orator  of  his  age.  AVhen  Gregory  arrived  in  the 
city  he  found  not  one  of  all  its  numerous  churches  open  to 
him.  Its  whole  population  was  hostile,  and  nobles,  artisans, 
monks,  and  nuns  were  prepared  to  argue  the  rarest  questions 

(')  He  celebrates  his  excellent  father,  his  pious  mother,  and  himself. 
Opera,  vol.  ii.,  p.  2. 


GBEGORY  NAZIANZEX.  157 

ill  theology  with  eager  Yolubilitj.  Constantinople,  in  380, 
rang  with  religious  controversy.  The  feasts,  the  baths,  the 
Hippodi'ome,  and  the  most  licentious  resorts  resounded  with 
sacred  names  and  tlioughts.(')  If  a  shop-keeper  were  asked  the 
cost  of  a  piece  of  silk,  he  would  reply  by  a  disquisition  on  un- 
regenerated  being ;  if  a  stranger  inquired  at  a  baker's  the  price 
of  bread,  he  was  told,  "  the  Son  is  subordinate  to  the  Father." 
Into  this  disputatious  population  Gregory  threw  himself  bold- 
ly. His  orthodox  friends  had  no  church  to  offer  him,  but  they 
provided  a  large  hall  or  basilica ;  an  altar  w^as  raised  at  one 
end ;  a  gallery  for  women  separated  them  from  the  men ; 
choristers  and  deacons  attended ;  and  Gregory,  full  of  hope, 
named  his  modest  chapel  Anastasia,  the  Church  of  the  Resm*- 
rection.(^) 

His  success  was  indeed  unbounded.  The  building  was  al- 
ways crowded,  the  crush  at  the  entrance  often  terrific ;  the 
rails  of  the  chancel  were  sometimes  broken  down ;  and  often 
the  crowded  congregation  broke  forth  in  loud  congratulatory 
cheers  as  they  were  touched  or  startled  by  the  eloquent  di- 
vine.(')  Insensibly  Gregory's  vanity  was  inflamed  and  grati- 
fied by  his  wide  popularity.  Standing  on  his  bishop's  throne 
in  the  eastern  end  of  his  Anastasia,  the  church  brilliantly 
lighted,  his  presbyters  and  deacons  in  white  robes  around  him, 
a  crowded  congregation  listening  with  upturned  eyes  below, 
now  fixed  in  deepest  silence  and  now  breaking  into  loud  ap- 
plause, Gregory  enjoyed  a  transient  triumph,  upon  which  he 
was  fond  of  dwelling  in  his  later  years,  when,  in  the  obscurity 
of  Nazianzus,  he  composed  his  own  poetical  memoirs.  Yet 
he  was  never  safe  from  the  malice  of  his  foes.  More  than 
once  a  riotous  mob  of  ferocious  monks  and  nuns,  of  drunken 
artisans  and  hungry  beggars,  broke  into  the  Anastasia,  dis- 
turbed its  worshipers  and  the  preacher,  wounded  the  neo- 
phytes and  priests,  and  were  allowed  by  the  Arian  police 
to  escape  unharmed ;  and  it  was  only  when  Theodosius  hiin- 

(')  Gregory  Naz.,  Or.,  p.  22-27. 

C)  De  Vita  Sua,  Oiiera,  ii.,  p.  17  ;  De  Broglie,  v.,  p.  408. 

(^)  De  Broglie,  v.,  p.  382;  Carm.,  Do  Vita  Sua,  p.  G75-700  et  seq. 


158  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

self  entered  the  city  that  the  labor  of  conversion  was  attended 
with  snccess.(') 

Theodosius  was  no  hesitatini^  missionary.  He  called  before 
him  Demophilus,  the  Arian  bishop,  and  ordered  him  to  recant 
his  errors  or  resign.  The  honest  bisliop  at  once  gave  np  his 
office.  The  see  was  now  vacant.  A  wild  Egyptian  fanatic  or 
impostor,  Maximns,  had  already  briljed  the  people  to  elect 
him  their  bishop  ;  but  the  next  day  they  had  repented  of  their 
folly,  and  resolved  to  force  Gregory  into  the  vacant  see. 
They  dragged  him  in  their  arms  to  the  episcopal  chair.  He 
struggled  to  escape,  he  refused  to  sit  down,  the  women  wept, 
the  children  cried  out  in  their  mothers'  arms,  and  at  last  Greg- 
ory consented  to  be  their  bishop.(°)  Maximus,  however,  still 
claimed  the  see.  Demophilus  had  not  yet  been  deposed,  w^hen 
Damasus,  the  Bishop  of  Rome,  advised  Theodosius  to  summon 
the  second  General  Council.  But  the  affair  of  the  bishopric 
tlie  soldier-emperor  resolved  to  decide  in  his  own  way.  He 
deposed  Demophilus,  expelled  Maximus,  and,  amidst  the  gen- 
eral lamentation  of  the  Arian  city,  on  a  clouded  day  in  No- 
vember, carried  the  pale  and  trembling  Gregory  to  the  Church 
of  the  Apostles,  where  Constantine  and  his  successors  lay  en- 
tombed, and  proclaimed  him  bishop.  Just  then,  it  is  said,  the 
wintry  clouds  parted  and  a  bright  sunbeam  covered  Gregory's 
bare  head  with  glory.  The  crowded  congregation  accepted 
the  omen,  and  cried  out,  "  Long  live  our  bishop  Gregory ."Q 

To  coniirm  or  annul  Gregory's  election,  and  to  correct  the 
creed  of  the  day,  were  the  objects  for  which  the  second  Gen- 
eral Council  assembled.  If  we  may  trust  Gregory's  account 
of  it,  which  he  wrote  in  the  obscure  but  not  tranquil  retire- 
ment of  Nazianzus,  we  must  conclude  that  it  could  scarcely 
compare  favorably  in  moral  excellence  with  that  of  Nice.  A 
canonized  saint,  he  rails  against  the  bishops  of  his  age.(')  All 
the  gluttons,  villains,  and  false-swearers  of  the  empire,  he  ex- 

(')  De  Broglie,  v.,  p.  394.     See  Gregory's  dream  of  the  Anastasia. 
C)  De  Broglie,  v.,  p.  409. 

(=■)  De  Vita  Sua,  p.  1355-1390.  See  Migue,  Pat.  Grsec,  xxxyii.,  pp.  1177, 
1234. 

(*)  Ad  Epis.  (il.,  p.  824-829),  Carmen  vii. 


A    COUNCIL   VITUPERATED.  ■     159 

claims,  had  l3een  convoked  in  the  council.  The  bishops  were 
low-born  and  illiterate,  peasants,  blacksmiths,  deserters  from 
the  army,  or  reeking  from  the  holds  of  ships ;  and  when  in 
the  midst  of  his  vituperation  the  elegant  Gregory  remember- 
ed that  of  the  same  class  of  humble  and  unlearned  men  were 
the  authors  of  his  faith :  "  Yes,"  he  cried,  "  they  were  true 
apostles ;  but  these  are  time-servers  and  flatterers  of  the  great, 
long -bearded  hypocrites,  and  pretended  devotees,  who  have 
neither  intellect  nor  faith."(')  Of  ecumenical  councils  the 
priestly  satirist  had  but  an  indifferent  opinion.  Councils  and 
congresses,  he  said,  were  the  cause  of  many  evils.  "  I  will  not 
sit  in  one  of  those  councils  of  geese  and  cranes,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  fly  from  every  meeting  of  bishops ;  for  I  never  saw  a  good 
end  to  any,  but  rather  an  increase  of  evils."  It  is  indeed  dif- 
ficult to  see  how  the  canonized  Gregory,  had  he  attended  the 
synods  of  Trent  or  Constance,  could  have  escaped  the  fate  of 
Huss  or  Jerome.  Yet  in  the  Second  Council  were  gathered 
several  eminent  and  excellent  men.  Anu^ng  them  were  Greg- 
ory of  Nyssa,  a  high  authority  in  the  Church,  and  the  worthy 
brother  of  Basil  the  Great ;  Melitius,  the  gentle  Bishop  of  An- 
tioch,  who  presided  at  the  council  at  the  emperor's  request  ;(*) 
C^Til,  the  aged  Bishop  of  Jerusalem ;  and  many  others  who 
scarcely  deserved  the  bitter  taunts  of  Gregory.  But  Melitius 
died  soon  after  the  opening  of  the  council,  and  Gregory,  who 
had  been  confirmed  in  his  bishopric,  presided  as  Patriarch  of 
Constantinople.  He  was  at  the  summit  of  his  glory ;  his  fall 
drew  near.  His  vigorous  honesty,  his  bitter  denunciation,  had 
made  him  many  enemies,  and  it  was  suddenly  discovered  that 
there  was  a  fatal  flaw  in  his  election.  By  an  obsolete  canon 
of  the  Nicene  Council,  which  had  been  constantly  violated 
ever  since  its  passage,  no  bishop  could  be  translated  from  one 
see  to  another ;  and  Gregory  was  already  the  Bishop  of  Sasi- 
ma.  The  objection  was  made ;  the  jealous  council  condemned 
their  greatest  orator ;  and  the  indignant  bishop,  deprived  of 
his  see,  a  disgraced  and  fallen  churchman,  was  sent  back  to 

(')  Ad  Epis.,  Migne,  xxxvii.,  p.  1177,  ami  see  p.  226. 

(^)  De  Bioglie,  v.,  p.  425,  excuses  the  presideucy  of  Melitius. 


IGO      .  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

the  repose  of  Nazianzus.C)  Tlieodosius  lamented  liis  loss,  but 
refused  to  interfere  in  the  clerical  dispute.  A  few  friends 
shared  in  Gregory's  indignation.  In  his  rural  retirement  he 
wrote  those  sharp  diatribes  on  the  Eastern  bishops  which  in- 
troduce us  to  the  clerical  life  of  Constantinople,  as  those  of 
his  friend  Jerome  depict  the  vices  and  follies  of  Rome.  Both 
capitals  seem  to  have  been  equally  tainted  and  impure. 

The  council  now  wanted  a  head,  and  Tlieodosius  at  once  ap- 
pointed Xectarius,  a  magistrate  of  the  city,  to  the  holy  office 
of  Patriarch  of  Constantinople.  If  Gregory  had  been  ineligi- 
ble, his  successor  was  still  more  so.  He  had  never  been  bap- 
tized, was  not  even  a  Christian,  and  his  morals  were  not  such 
as  to  lit  him  for  the  apostolic  place.  But  the  emperor  insist- 
ed, the  bishop  was  baptized,  and  his  vices  were  hidden  in  the 
splendor  of  his  patriarchal  court.  He  presided  at  the  council, 
which  now  hastened  to  finish  its  sittings.  The  real  influence 
of  the  Council  of  Constantinojile  on  the  opinions  of  the  Church 
was  not  important ;  its  decisions  were  rejected  at  Rome  and 
neglected  by  its  contemporaries.  The  "•  Creed  of  Constanti- 
nople," which  has  been  erroneously  ascribed  to  it,  was  proba- 
bly the  work  of  Epiphanius  or  Gregory  of  Nyssa.f)  The 
council  condemned  a  vast  number  of  heresies;  it  raised  the 
see  of  Constantinople  to  the  second  rank  in  Christendom, 
next  to  Rome,  and  suggested  the  principle  that  the  dignity  of 
the  patriarch  was  to  be  determined  by  the  importance  of  the 
city  over  which  he  ruled.  Constantinople  was  now  second 
only  to  Rome  ;  and  as  the  latter  declined  in  power,  we  find  the 
bishop  of  the  Eastern  capital  first  claiming  an  equality  with 
the  ancient  see,  and  then,  finally,  seeking  to  subject  the  bar- 
barous West  to  his  own  authority  by  declaring  himself  the 
Universal  Bisliop.(')  The  emperor,  Tlieodosius,  whose  vigor 
had  controlled  most  of  the  proceedings  of  the  council,  now,  as 
head  of  the  Church,  affirmed  its  authority  by  an  imperial  de- 

(')  Do  Bioglie,  v.,  p.  442.  Gregory  delivered  a  fine  address  iu  parting. 
See  his  congratulatory  letter  to  Nectarius,  Ep.,  p.  88.    Migue,  sxxvii.,  p.  162. 

C)  De  Broglie  even  adds  iha  fdioque,\^\\\ch.  was  not  beard  of  until  a  cent- 
ury or  nioru  later,  v.,  p.  450,  and  note. 

(')  Milmau,  Hist.  Lat.  Chri.stiauity,  i.,  p.  211. 


POPE  DJMASUS.  161 

eree.(')  The  "  one  hundred  and  iifty  fatliers,"  as  they  have 
been  called,  left  Constantinople  in  the  hot  days  of  July,  381, 
for  their  various  homes.  The  war  of  controversy  had  ceased ; 
but  the  fierce  disputes,  the  bitter  invectives,  the  unchristian 
violence,  and  the  infamous  morals  of  many  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Second  Council  are  preserved  to  us  by  the  un- 
sparing satires  of  the  honest  but  vindictive  Gregory  of  Nazi- 
anzus. 

It  might  seem  to  the  Christian  or  the  man  of  thought  a 
matter  of  little  consequence  what  the  corrupt  priests  and  bish- 
ops of  this  distant  period  said  or  imagined  of  their  own  pre- 
rogatives and  powers;  and  no  subtlety  of  argument  can  con- 
vert into  a  successor  of  the  apostles  the  fierce  and  blood- 
thirsty Damasus,f )  Bishop  of  Rome,  the  dissolute  Patriarch  of 
Constantinople,  or  the  ambitious  and  unprincipled  prelates  of 
Antioch  and  Alexandria ;  but  it  may  be  safely  said  that  each 
asserted  a  perfect  independence  of  the  other,  and  that  the 
Bishop  of  Rome  as  yet  held  no  general  control  in  the  exterior 
church.  The  wars  and  rivalries  of  the  ambitious  prelates,  in- 
deed, might  almost  convince  us  that  Christian  virtue  had 
wholly  died  out,  did  not  various  casual  notices  of  the  histori- 
ans of  the  time  direct  us  to  a  different  conclusion.  The  pa- 
gan, Ammianus  Marcellinus,  in  his  scornful  picture  of  the 
luxury  and  vice  of  the  clergy  of  Rome,(')  points  to  a  pleasing 
contrast  in  the  conduct  of  the  rural  priests.  They,  at  least, 
lived  in  a  purity  and  simplicity  worthy  of  the  best  days  of 
the  Church ;  they,  perhaps,  with  their  rustic  congregations, 
were  the  true  successors  of  the  apostles.(*)  Gregory  of  Na- 
zianzus  and  Jerome  confirm  and  illustrate  his  narrative.  The 
Church  still  lived  among  the  people  ;  and  while  angry  bishops 
raged  in  stormy  councils,  or  hurled  anathemas  against  each 
other  in  haughty  supremacy,  the  good  Samaritan  still  softened 
the  hearts  of  humble  Christians ;  the  cup  of  cold  water  was 

C)  Hefele,ii.,  pp.  27,28. 

O  Rufinns,  i.,  p.  10,  describes  the  bloody  scenes  at  Rome. 
C)  A.  Thierry,  Saint  Jerome,  i.,  p.  21. 

(^)  Ammianus,  xxvii.,  pp.  3,  14:  "Tenuitas  edeudi  potandJf[4ie  parcis- 
sime,"  etc. 

11 


162  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

still  given  to  the  weary  and  the  sad ;  the  merciful  and  the 
meek  of  every  land  were  still  nnited  in  a  saintly  and  eternal 
brotherhood.  Christian  morality  began  to  assert  a  wonderful 
power ;  the  people  everywhere  grew  purer  and  better.  The 
barbarous  gladiatorial  shows  were  abolished ;  licentious  spec- 
tacles no  longer  j^leased ;  the  vices  of  paganism  disappeared ; 
the  sacred  bond  of  marriage  was  observed ;  slavery,  which  had 
destroyed  the  Roman  republic,  was  tending  to  its  decay ;  and 
some  future  historian  of  the  Church,  neglecting  the  strife  of 
bishops  and  councils,  may  be  able  to  trace  a  clear  succession 
of  apostolic  virtue  from  the  days  of  Gregory  and  Jerome  to 
those  of  Wycliffe,  IIuss,  and  Luther. 

The  third  and  fourth  Ecumenical  Councils  grew  out  of 
a  tierce  struggle  for  supremacy  between  the  Patriarchs  of 
Alexandria  and  Constantinople.(')  Cyril  of  Alexandria,  vio- 
lent, ambitious,  and  unscrupulous,  ruled  over  a  wide  and  pros- 
perous patriarchate.  The  city  of  Alexandria,  in  the  decline 
of  the  Roman  empire,  was  still  (431)  the  centre  of  letters  and 
of  trade.  Rome  had  been  ravaged  and  desolated  by  the  Goth 
and  the  Yandal,  and  was  fast  sinking  into  a  new  barbarism ; 
Constantinople,  under  its  feeble  emperors,  trembled  at  each 
movement  of  the  savage  tenants  of  the  European  wilderness ; 
but  Alexandria  was  untouched  by  the  barbarian,  and  its  gifted 
bishop  reigned  supreme  over  the  swarming  population  of  the 
Egyptian  diocese.  He  had  resolved  to  crash  Nestorius,  Patri- 
arch of  Constantinople.  It  was  the  famous  Nestorian  con- 
troversy which  gave  rise  to  a  Christian  sect  that  still  exists  in 
its  ancient  seats.  Nestorius  refused  to  apply  to  the  Virgin 
Mary  the  name  of  "  Mother  of  God."  Cyril  denounced  him 
with  bitter  malignity,^  and  began  a  holy  war  which  he  had 
resolved  should  end  in  the  destruction  of  his  powerful  rival. 
Between  the  two  hostile  patriarchs,  indeed,  there  seems  to 
have  been  little  difference  in  character  or  in  Christian  mod- 
eration, and  I^J^estoriusQ  had  persecuted  with  unsparing  hand 

(')  ililman,  Hist.  Latin  Christianity,  i.,  p.  160 ;  Barouius,  v.,  p.  682. 

C)  Conciliorum,  v.,  p.  6. 

(')  For  the  cruelties  of  Nestorius,  see  Socrates,  vii.,  p.  29. 


CTRIL  AXD   HYP  ATI  A.  163 

the  hapless  dissidents  within  his  see.  But  he  had  scarcely 
equaled  the  vindictive  cruelty  of  Cyril.  Alexandria  had  al- 
ready witnessed,  under  the  rule  of  its  intolerant  master,  a 
severe  persecution  of  the  gentle  Xovatians,  whose  simple  pie- 
ty seems  to  have  attracted  the  bitter  hatred  of  the  ambitious 
prelates  of  the  age ;  and  Cyril  himself  led  a  throng  of  fanatics 
to  the  plunder  and  destruction  of  the  harmless  and  wealthy 
Jews.(')  Forty  thousand  of  the  unhappy  Israelites  were 
banished  from  the  city  they  had  enriched ;  and  when  Orestes, 
the  Roman  prefect,  complained  of  the  persecuting  bishop  to 
the  emperor,  a  mob  of  monks  assailed  him  in  the  street,  and 
one  of  them,  Ammonius,  struck  him  on  the  head  with  a 
stone.Q  The  people  drove  off  the  monks,  and  Orestes  order- 
ed Ammonius  to  be  put  to  torture.  He  died,  but  Cyril  buried 
him  with  holy  honors,  and  enrolled  his  name  among  the  band 
of  martyrs.  Sober  Christians,  says  Socrates,  condemned  Cy- 
ril's conduct,  but  a  still  deeper  disgrace  soon  fell  upon  the  Al- 
exandrian Church  from  the  rivalry  of  Cyril  and  Orestes.  The 
fair  Hypatia,  the  daughter  of  the  philosopher  Tlieron,  had 
won  the  respect  as  well  as  the  admiration  of  Alexandria  by 
her  beauty,  her  eloquence,  and  her  modest  life.  With  rare 
clearness  and  force  she  explained  before  splendid  audiences 
the  pure  doctrines  of  Plato,  and  proved,  by  her  refined  and 
graceful  oratory,  that  the  gift  of  genius  might  be  found  in  ei- 
ther sex.  She  was  the  rival  of  Cyril  in  eloquence,  and  the 
friend  of  his  enemy  Orestes,  and  her  dreadful  doom  awoke 
the  sympathy  of  Christians  as  well  as  pagans.  The  fierce  and 
bigoted  followers  of  Cyril  dragged  her  from  her  carriage  as 
she  was  returning  to  her  home,  tore  her  body  to  pieces,  and 
burned  her  mangled  limbs ;  and  it  was  believed,  even  by 
Christian  historians,  that  the  jealous  patriarch  was  not  alto- 
gether innocent  of  a  share  in  the  doom  of  his  gentle  and  ac- 
complished rival.(') 

Q)  Socrates,  Hist.  Ecc.,Yii.,  p.  13. 

C')  Gibbou  exaggerates  the  assault  into  a  voUeij  of  stones,  Decline  and 
Fall,  iv.,  p.  460 ;  but  Socrates,  vii.,  p.  14,  mentions  only  one. 

O  Socrates,  vii.,  p.  IG,  denounces  the  murder  as  an  opprobrium  to  Cy- 
ril and  the  Church. 


164  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

Cyril  denounced  and  anathematized  Nestorius ;  Celestine, 
Bishop  of  Rome,  joined  him  in  his  war  against  the  Bishop  of 
Constantinople,  degraded  Nestorins  from  his  episcopal  dignity, 
and  asserted  the  divine  honors  of  Mary  as  the  mother  of  God. 
The  feeble  emperor,  Tlieodosius  the  Yonnger,  alarmed  by  the 
furious  rage  of  his  powerful  prelates,  but  friendly  to  Nesto- 
rius,  summoned  an  assembly  of  the  Christian  world  to  decide 
the  nice  distinction.  Ephesu>3  was  chosen  as  a  convenient 
place  for  the  meeting  of  the  Third  Council,  and  in  June,  431, 
the  rival  factions  began  to  gather  in  the  magnificent  city  of 
Diana,  now  destined  to  become  renowned  for  the  triumph  of 
the  holier  Yirgin.(')  Yet  to  the  sincere  Christians  of  this  un- 
happy age  the  conduct  and  character  of  the  members  of  the 
Third  Council  could  have  brought  only  disappointment  and 
shame.  In  vain  the  gentle  Tlieodosius  implored  his  patri- 
archs and  bishops  to  exercise  the  common  virtues  of  forbear- 
ance and  self-respect ;  in  vain  he  placed  over  them  a  guard  of 
soldiers  to  insure  an  outward  peace.  The  streets  of  the  mag- 
nificent city  were  filled  with  riot  and  bloodshed ;  the  rival 
factions  fought  for  the  honor  of  Mary  or  the  supremacy  of 
the  hostile  sees.  Cyril,  violent  and  resolute  to  rule,  had  come 
from  Alexandria,  followed  by  a  throng  of  bishops,  priests,  and 
a  host  of  fanatics ;  Nestorius  relied  for  his  safety  on  the  pro- 
tection of  the  imperial  guard ;  but  to  neither  could  the  Chris- 
tian world  attribute  any  one  of  the  virtues  enjoined  by  its 
holy  faith.C')  The  Patriarch  of  Alexandria  refused  to  wait 
for  the  coming  of  the  Oriental  bishops,  and  at  once  assembled 
a  synod  of  his  own  adherents,  and  proceeded  to  try  and  con- 
demn his  rival.  Kestorius  protested;  the  emperor's  legate, 
Candidian,  who  asked  for  a  delay  of  four  days,  was  driven 
with  insult  from  the  hostile  assembly.  The  bishops  delivered 
their  opinions ;  Cyril  presided ;  and  at  the  close  of  a  single 
day  Nestorius  was  degraded,  a  convicted  heretic ;  and  the  city 

(*)  Concil.,  v.,  p.  7.  Baronius,  v.,  p.  682,  raises  the  luiinber  of  bishops  to 
over  two  hundred. 

C)  Milman,  Hist.  Lat.  Chris.,  i.,  p.  133-140.  For  a  full  accouut  of  the 
couucil  see  Hefele,  Zwoiter  Band,  p.  162  d  8eq. 


THE  FALLEN  CHURCH.  165 

of  Ephesus  resounded  with  songs  of  triumph  over  the  fall  of 
the  enemy  of  Mary.(') 

It  is  painful,  indeed,  to  contemplate  the  angry  strife  that 
rent  the  corrupt  Church  of  this  early  period,  yet  it  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  discover  its  cause.  The  Church,  in  its  exterior  form, 
had  long  been  the  instrument  of  the  State ;  the  bishops  and 
patriarchs  were  the  representatives  of  the  vices  and  the  in- 
trigues of  the  imperial  court.  They  had  become  earthly 
princes,  instead  of  messengers  from  heaven.  Their  pomp  and 
luxury  shocked  and  alienated  the  true  believer,  and  they  had 
long  abandoned  every  one  of  tlie  principles  of  charity  and  be- 
nevolence inculcated  by  the  faith  they  professed.  The  unity 
of  the  Church  had  been  lost  in  the  contentions  of  its  chiefs, 
and  even  in  Constantinople  itself  three  rival  bishops  ruled 
over  their  separate  adherents.  The  Cathari,  or  Novatians,  the 
Protestants  of  this  corrupt  period,  departing  from  the  estab- 
lished church,  had  retained  their  organization  ever  since  the 
age  of  Constantino  ;(^)  the  pure  and  spotless  lives  of  their 
bishops,  Agelius,  Chrysanthus,  and  Paul,  formed  a  pleasing 
contrast  to  the  vices  of  Xectarius  or  Xestorius ;  and  the  mod- 
est virtues  of  this  persecuted  sect  awakened  the  envy  and  the 
hatred  of  the  orthodox  bishops  of  Rome  and  Constantinople. 
The  Kovatians  rejected  the  authority  of  the  imperial  patri- 
arch, but  they  observed  the  Nicene  Creed.  They  lived  holy 
lives  in  the  midst  of  persecution  or  temptation.  Chrysan- 
thus,Q  the  Kovatian  bishop  of  Constantinople,  distributed  his 
private  fortune  among  the  poor,  and  his  only  salary  was  two 
loaves  of  bread  on  each  Lord's  day  from  the  contributions  of 
the  faithful.  The  ISTovatian  Ablabius  was  one  of  the  most 
elegant  and  vigorous  preachers  of  the  day;(*)  the  pious  Paul 
was  the  friend  of  the  prisoners  and  of  the  poor.(^)  An  Arian 
bishop  also  presided  at  Constantinople,  and  in  their  sufferings 
his  followers  learned  virtue  and  self-restraint.     It  was  against 

(')  Hefele,  ii.,  p.  173:  "Die  Sitzung  hatte  von  Morgans  friih  bis  in  die 
Nacht  hinein  gedauert."    Nestorius  was  called  a  new  Judas. 

C)  Socrates,  H.  E.,  v.,  p.  12-21.  See  Sozomen,  1.,  p.  22,  for  the  boldness  of 
a  Novatiau. 

C)  Socrates,  H.  E.,  vii.,  p.  12.  C)  Id.  C)  hi,  p.  17. 


166  ECUMENICAL  COUNCILS. 

these  rival  sects  that  Nestorius  had  first  turned  his  persecuting 
rage.  He  envied  the  spotless  fame,  the  general  love  that  fol- 
lowed the  gentle  Novatian  hishop,  Paul,  as  he  passed  through 
the  city  to  intercede  for  the  prisoner  or  to  relieve  the  sick ;  he 
destroyed  the  Arian  churches ;  and  lie  deserved,  by  his  cruel 
intolerance,  the  fatal  doom  which  Cyril  had  prepared  for  him 
at  Ejihesus. 

But  Cyril's  triumphs  at  the  council  seemed  about  to  be 
turned  into  a  defeat  by  the  arrival  of  John,  Bishop  of  Antioch, 
and  the  Oriental  bishops,  who  at  once  denied  the  validity  of 
the  condemnation  of  Nestorius.  Two  rival  councils  sat  at  the 
same  time  in  the  City  of  the  Yirgin,(')  and  the  streets  were 
again  filled  with  riot  and  bloodshed  by  the  contending  fac- 
tions. Churches  were  stormed  and  defended;  the  imperial 
guards  fled  before  an  angry  mob ;  and  for  three  months  Cyril 
and  Nestorius  opposed  each  other  with  an  almost  equal  pros- 
pect of  success,  and  with  all  the  weapons  of  corruption,  vio- 
lence, and  fraud.f )  The  Em23eror  Theodosius,  the  gentlest  of 
rulers,  was  at  length  enraged  at  the  vindictive  fury  of  the 
holy  council.  He  sent  the  disorderly  prelates  to  their  homes, 
and  recommended  them  to  amend  by  their  private  virtues  the 
injury  and  scandal  they  had  inflicted  on  the  Church.  But  the 
malevolence  of  Cyril  was  insatiable.  His  intrigues  and  his 
bribes  won  over  the  courtiers  of  Constantinople ;  and  Nesto- 
rius,  the  haughtiest  of  patriarchs  except  his  rival,  was  sent 
into  exile,  and  died  a  convicted  heretic.  His  name  and  his 
doctrine  still  survive  in  a  sect  of  Oriental  Christians,  who  are 
perhaps  the  natural  fruit  of  the  persecuting  spirit  of  Cyril  and 
the  intolerant  rule  of  the  famous  Council  of  Ephesus, 

The  heresy  of  Nestorius  gave  rise  to  the  fourth  General 
Council,  at  Chalcedon,  by  exciting  a  speculation  directly  op- 
posed to  his  own.Q  Eutyches,  an  aged  monk,  the  chief  or 
abbot  of  the  ascetic  throng  of  Constantinople,  and  a  faithful 


(')  Baronius,  v.,  p.  687-719,  looks  upon  Nestorius  as  a  ragiug  mouster — a 
dragon  or  a  fiend. 

C)  I^vagrius,  Hist.  Ecc.,  i.,  pp.  4,  5. 

(')  Milman,  Hist.  Latin  Christianity,  i.,  p.  204 ;  Gibbou,  iv.,  p.  476. 


DIOSCORUS  AND  HIS  BOB  BEES.  167 

follower  of  Cyril,  proposed,  in  opposition  to  the  two  natures 
of  Christ  asserted  by  the  Nestorians,  a  theory  of  the  perfect 
union  of  the  spiritual  nature  with  the  human.  He  was  shock- 
ed to  find  himself  denounced  as  a  heretic,  yet  he  boldly  main- 
tained his  opinion.(')  Cyril  was  dead ;  his  successor,  Diosco- 
rus,  Patriarch  of  Alexandria,  defended  the  theory  of  Eutyches. 
He  was  even  more  unscrupulous  than  his  predecessor.  His 
vices,  his  cruelty,  and  his  ambition  filled  the  Christian  world 
with  tumult.  A  synod  met  at  Ephesus  to  decide  the  contro- 
versy. Dioscorus  was  present  with  a  horde  of  monks,  robbers, 
and  assassins ;  the  trembling  bishops  were  forced  by  the  vio- 
lence of  the  Egyptians  to  adopt  the  opmion  of  Eutyches,  and 
the  "  Robber  Synod,"  as  it  was  called,  from  the  savage  natures 
of  its  members,  seemed  to  have  fixed  the  rule  of  orthodoxy. 
But  Leo  the  Great  was  now  Bishop  of  Kome,  and  the  oppo- 
nent of  Attila  did  not  fear  the  wild  anchorets  of  Eg}^t.  A 
general  council  was  summoned  at  his  request,  to  meet  in  Oc- 
tober, 451,  at  Chalcedon.  Senators  and  nobles  were  mingled 
with  the  priestly  throng  to  restrain  their  tumultuous  im- 
pulses;(')  in  the  magnificent  church  of  St.  Euphemia,  on  the 
shores  of  the  Thracian  Bosphorus,  five  hundred  bishops  at- 
tended; the  haughty  Dioscorus  was  tried  by  his  peers,  and 
convicted  of  innumerable  vices  and  crimes ;  he  was  deposed 
from  his  sacred  ofiice,  and  the  aspiring  Bishop  of  Rome  re- 
joiced in  the  fall  of  his  powerful  rival.  For  the  first  time, 
perhaps,  the  Nicene  Creed  was  chanted  as  we  have  it  to-day; 
the  Eutychian  heresy  was  condemned  in  the  person  of  its  chief 
defender ;  and  various  canons  were  passed  that  served  to  de- 
fine the  usages  of  the  Church.  Yet  Leo's  triumph  was  mar- 
red by  a  memorable  incident.  Among  the  regulations  in- 
troduced by  the  council  was  one  that  raised  the  see  of  Con- 
stantinople to  an  equality,  in  some  particulars  at  least,  with 
that  of  Rome ;  it  asserted  that  the  dignity  of  the  city  deter- 


(')  Concil.  Chaleedonse,  Labbei,  viii.,  p.  4:  "  Incredibile  est,  quanta 
auimi  acerbitate  ac  rabio  exarsit  Eutyches."     Hefele,  ii.,  p.  361. 

(-)  ConciL,  Labbei,  iv.,  p.  766:  "Turbas  comprioiereut."  See  Evagrius, 
ii.,  p.  3. 


168  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

mined  that  of  its  patriarch,  and  openly  expressed  what  had 
been  implied  at  the  Second  Council.(*)  Leo  rejected  the  can- 
ons with  disdain ;  he  asserted  with  rage  and  violence  the 
primacy  of  Peter ;  but  the  incident  is  important  as  showing 
what  was  the  opinion  of  this  superstitious  age  as  to  the  ori- 
gin of  the  papal  claims.(')  Another  result  of  the  Council  of 
Chalcedon  was  the  creation  of  a  sect,  the  Monophjsites,  who 
still  retain  the  dogma  condemned  by  the  synod,  and  whose 
faith  still  lingers  among  the  Copts  and  the  Abyssinians.  So 
powerless  are  councils  to  produce  a  general  unity  of  belief ! 

A  Bishop  of  Rome,  Vigilius,  lent  his  sanction  to  the  fifth 
Ecumenical  Council,  and  its  general  character  may  be  inferred 
from  the  life  and  conduct  of  its  head.  Vigilius  was  the  creat- 
ure and  the  victim  of  the  corrupt  women  who  ruled  over  the 
court  of  the  feeble  Justinian.  He  was  accused  of  having 
caused  the  death  of  his  predecessor,  the  gentle  Silverius;  of 
having  killed  his  own  nephew  by  incessant  scourging ;  of  be- 
ing a  notorious  murderer,  stained  by  countless  crimes.  He 
fled  from  Rome,  pursued  by  the  maledictions  of  its  people. 
They  threw  volleys  of  stones  after  him  as  he  left  the  city,  and 
cried,  "  Evil  thou  hast  done  to  us — evil  attend  thee  wherever 
thou  goest !"(')  At  Constantinople  he  met  with  still  worse 
treatment.  His  vacillation  or  his  insincerity  displeased  his 
corrupt  patrons;  he  was  dragged  through  the  streets  with  a 
rope  around  his  neck ;  was  shut  up  in  the  common  jail,  and 
fed  on  bread  and  water ;  and,  at  length,  the  unlucky  pontiff, 
having  in  vain  sacrificed  his  conscience  to  the  tyranny  of 
Justinian,  died  a  miserable  outcast  at  Syracuse.(*)  The  papal 
dignity  had  evidently  sunk  low  in  this  degenerate  age ;  and 
one  can  not  avoid  contrasting  the  humble  slave,  Vigilius,  with 

(')  Coucil.,  Labbei,  iv.,  p.  7(57.  The  Jesuit  editors  say  "second"  to 
Kome  ;  but  why,  then,  Leo's  indignatiou  ? 

(^)  It  is  said  that  this  cauon  was  passed  by  a  few  bishops,  and  not  by 
the  whole  council  (Milnian,  Hist.  Lat.  Christ.,  i.,  p.  211);  but  it  still  in- 
dicates that  the  papal  theory  was  not  yet  established. 

(')  Milman,  i.,  p.  340  et  seq. 

C)  Hefele,  ii.,  p.  824  et  8cq.,  gives  a  full  account  of  the  council.  Vigilius 
was  forced  to  confirm  the  acts  of  the  council. 


POPE  HONORIUS   THE  HERETIC.  169 

the  haughty  Gregories  and  Innocents  who  ruled  over  nion- 
archs  and  nations,  and  who  so  barbarously  avenged  his  fate. 
Justinian  ruled  alone  at  the  Fifth  Council  (553),  and  Pope  and 
bishops  were  the  servile  instruments  of  the  vicious  court.     The 
last,  the  sixth  General  Council,  assembled  in  680,  at  Constan- 
tinople.    The  emperor  or  Pope  Agatho  presided ;  a  throng  of 
bishops  attended ;  a  band  of  soldiers  enforced  good  order ; 
and  a  fierce  anchorite  of  the  Monothelite  faith  attempted  to 
perform  a  miracle  as  a  proof  of  the  sanctity  of  his  creed.    But 
the  dead  refused  to  come  to  life  under  his  illusive  spells ;  the 
Monothelite  doctrine  was  condemned  by  the  united  council ; 
and  the  faith  in  the  infallibility  of  the  papacy  was  forever 
shattered  by  the  conviction  of  Pope  Ilonorius  as  a  heretic.(^) 
If  a  Pope  can  be  a  heretic,  how  can  he  be  infallible  ?     If  his 
inspiration  can  once  fail,  when  can  we  be  ever  sure  of  his  per- 
fect truth  ?     Or  if  Pope  Ilonorius  erred  in  becoming  the  pa- 
tron of  the  Monothelite  creed,  may  we  not  conclude  that  Pope 
Pius  IX.  is  wrong  in  opposing  free  schools  and  a  free  press? 
The  sixth  General  Council  offers  a  happy  precedent  for  a 
general  synod  of  the  nineteenth  century.(^) 

There  now  occurs  in  the  course  of  history  that  solemn  and 
instructive  spectacle,  the  decline  and  death  of  the  European 
intellect.  Knowledge  ceased  to  be  powerful ;  the  ignorant 
races  subdued  the  intellectual ;  a  brutal  reign  of  violence  fol- 
lowed ;  and  truth,  honor,  probity,  industry,  genius,  seemed  to 
have  fled  forever  from  the  nations  of  Europe,  to  find  their 
home  with  the  Saracen  or  the  Turk,  From  the  seventh  to  the 
twelfth  century  the  Arabs  were  the  only  progressive  race.  In 
Europe,  by  a  strange  perversion  of  common  reason,  to  labor 
was  held  dishonorable ;  to  rob  the  laborer  was  held  the  priv- 
ilege of  noble  birth.(')  The  feudal  system  was  a  not  unskill- 
ful device  to  maintain  a  warrior  caste  at  the  cost  of  the  labor- 

(')  Mosheim,  i.,  p.  536,  aud  note  ;  Milman,  Lat.  Christianity,  ii.,  p.  137. 

(')  For  the  authorities  on  the  coudemuatiou  of  Honoriiis  see  Hefele, 
Con.,  iii.,  p.  264-284.  The  support  of  heresy,  Honorius  was  vigorously 
anathematized. 

(^)  The  Middle-age  chroniclers  seem  to  have  hated  the  working-class  in- 
tensely.    See  Commines,  v.,  j).  5  j  Monstrelet. 


ITO  ECUMENICAL  COUNCILS. 

ing  class ;  and  the  merchant,  the  scholar,  the  mechanic,  and  the 
inventor  became  serfs  or  villeins,  whose  scanty  earnings  were 
freely  snatched  from  them  to  sustain  the  indolent  license  of 
their  warrior  lords.(')  Industry  died  out,  and  with  it  fell  its 
natural  offspring — the  intellect.  The  warrior  caste  could  nei- 
ther read  nor  w^ite ;  the  miserable  serfs  had  no  leisure  for 
mental  improvement ;  while  priests,  monks,  and  bishops  aban- 
doned the  study  of  classic  literature,  and,  when  they  could 
read,  employed  their  idle  hours  in  conning  their  breviaries  or 
in  spelling  out  miraculous  legends  of  the  saints.  In  this  dark 
period  grew  up  the  monastic  system,  the  worship  of  images 
and  relics,  the  adoration  of  Mary,  the  supremacy  of  Eome. 

Heresies,  indeed,  had  ceased  to  exist,  except  the  greatest  of 
them  all,  the  papal  assumption ;  and  general  councils  were  no 
lono-er  held.  A  chain  of  circumstances  had  tended  to  make 
Eome  the  master  of  the  intellect  and  the  conscience  of  Eu- 
rope. Its  ancient  rivals,  the  Patriarchs  of  Alexandria,  Anti- 
och,  and  Jerusalem,  had  sunk  into  feeble  subjects  of  the  fol- 
lowers of  Mohammed.  No  Cyril  any  longer  thundered  his 
anathemas  from  amidst  his  swarming  hosts  of  Egyptian  monks 
and  bishops ;  no  vigorous  opponents  of  the  papal  assumptions 
arose  among  the  persecuted  Christians  of  Syria  and  the  East. 
A  feeble  patriarch  reigned  at  Constantinople,  who  faintly  de- 
fied his  Italian  brother,  and  chanted  an  uninterpolated  creed  ;Q 
but  the  whole  Western  world  obeyed  implicitly  the  spiritual 
tyrant  at  Eome,  and  the  pure  faith  and  morality  of  the  age 
were  lost  to  sight,  and  were  hidden,  perhaps,  in  the  cottages  of 
the  Vaudois  and  amidst  the  glens  and  defiles  of  the  Pyrenees. 

The  monastic  system  had  now  assumed  a  strange  and  over- 
whelming importance.  Eome  ruled  by  its  monasteries,  and 
over  every  part  of  Europe  a  countless  throng  of  these  clerical 
fortresses  had  arisen,  engrossing  the  richest  lands,  drawing  in 
the  young  and  ardent,  cultivating  the  grossest  superstition,  and 


(')  The  Normau  knigbts  gave  away  carpenters  and  blacksmiths  as  pres- 
ents. See  Ingulphns,  p.  174.  The  Norman  kings  sometimes  presented 
their  courtiers  with  a  wealthy  merchant. 

(^)  The  Latins  now  added  the /Ziojite. 


THE  MONASTIC  RULE.  171 

forming,  from  Monte  Casino  to  Croyland  or  Melrose,  the  iirm- 
est  defense  of  the  papal  rule.  In  the  third  centmy  a  Paul  and 
an  Anthony,  the  famous  solitaries  of  Egypt,  had  begun  the 
system  by  their  example  of  a  perfect  seclusion  from  the  world, 
and  often  the  gentle  hermits  were  the  purest,  if  not  the  most 
useful,  of  their  race.(')  A  pale,  slight,  sickly,  but  impassioned 
and  gifted  missionary  of  the  new  practice,  the  austere,  the  bit- 
ter Jerome,  had  defended  and  propagated  monasticism  by  his 
vigorous  pen  and  his  holy  life.(°)  But  Jerome  at  least  taught 
his  followers  to  labor  with  their  hands,  to  dress  plainly  but 
neatly,  to  read,  perhaps  to  think.Q  A  Benedict  and  Pope 
Gregory  the  Great  helped  to  spread  the  system  over  the  West. 
Its  rules  of  austerity,  seclusion,  celibacy,  and  ignorance  grew 
rigid  and  immovable,  and  the  monastery  became  the  model 
of  the  Roman  Church.  Celibacy,  which  had  been  condemned 
by  the  gentle  ascetic  Paphnutius  at  the  Council  of  Nice,  who 
proclaimed  marriage  honorable,  was  now  enforced  upon  every 
priest.Q  The  iron  Hildebrand  tore  wives  from  their  hus- 
bands, destroyed  the  happiness  of  countless  families,  and  de- 
nounced the  married  clergy  in  every  land :  the  priest  was  con- 
verted into  a  monk.  The  Roman  Church  denianded  a  perfect 
submission  from  its  servants.  But  the  monastic  system,  which 
had  seemed  so  harmless  or  so  meritorious  in  its  earlier  adher- 
ents, began  now  to  show  its  more  dangerous  aspect.  Monas- 
teries and  nunneries  filled  the  cities  and  the  open  country  of 
Europe.  They  possessed  half  the  arable  land  of  England,  and 
drew  in  the  wealth  of  Germany  and  France.  They  grew  rich 
by  bequests  and  charities,  lawsuits,  forgeries,  and  fraud.Q 
The  monks  were  noted  for  their  avarice,  indolence,  license, 

O  The  monks  cultivated  at  first  the  useful  arts.  Sozomeu,  Hist.  Ecc, 
i.,p.l2. 

(°)  See  A.  Thierry's  Saint  Jerome,  i.,  p.  145.     Au  excellent  portrait. 

(')  See  Jerome,  Regula  Monachorum,  cap.  xiv. :  "  Si  mouachus  esse  vis, 
non  videri,"  etc.  They  were  to  dress  plainly,  cai).  xvii.,  to  plant,  to  sow,  to 
labor. 

{*)  Sozomen,  i.,  p.  23. 

(^)  The  forged  charters  and  perpetual  lawsnits  of  Croyland  show  how 
the  acute  abbots  enlarged  their  wealth.     Ingulphus,  Chrou.,  lutroduct. 


172  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

and  encroacliing  pride.  They  crushed  literature,  discouraged 
industry,  despised  the  claims  of  labor ;  and  no  burden  pressed 
more  heavily  upon  the  working-men  of  the  Middle  Ages  than 
the  general  prevalence  of  the  monastic  system.  A  sellish  and 
useless  isolation  made  tlie  monks  the  prey  of  idle  fancies  and 
superstitious  dreams.  They  sustained  the  worship  of  images 
against  the  common-sense  of  Leo  and  Charlemagne,  asserted 
the  claims  of  the  Virgin,  and  defended  the  tyranny  of  the 
Pope.  A  monk  invented  the  Spanish  Inquisition ;  another 
founded  that  of  Rome ;  one  produced  the  massacre  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew ;  a  Jesuit  drove  the  Huguenots  from  France ;  and 
scarcely  one  of  those  horrible  persecutions  and  bloody  wars 
that  have  made  the  name  of  Rome  odious  among  nations  but 
may  be  traced  to  the  bitter  and  blind  superstition  engendered 
by  the  monkish  rule. 

A  still  darker  infamy  surrounded  the  convent  and  the  nun- 
ner3\(')  Within  their  gloomy  walls  the  abbot  or  superior 
reigned  supreme ;  no  person  was  permitted  to  hold  intercourse 
with  the  monks  and  nuns;  their  nearest  relatives  were  ex- 
cluded forever  from  their  sight ;  a  severe  discipline  made 
them  the  slaves  of  the  abbot  or  the  confessor,  and  deeds  of 
violence  and  crime,  faintly  whispered  in  the  public  ear,  in- 
creased the  unpopularity  of  the  monastic  system.  At  length, 
in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  mighty  voice  of  Luther  awak- 
ened attention  to  the  growing  enormity ;  nation  after  nation 
threw  oil  the  terrible  superstition,  broke  up  its  monasteries, 
and  drove  their  swarming  population  to  useful  labor.  Italy 
has  just  expelled  its  monks,  to  turn  the  monasteries  into  alms- 
houses and  public  schools ;  Spain  follows  in  its  path ;  and  it 
is  possible  that  these  dangerous  prisons  of  the  young  and  the 
fair  may  be  permitted  to  exist  in  all  their  mediaeval  enormity 
only  on  the  free  soil  of  America  or  on  the  streets  of  Cracow. 
It  seems,  indeed,  unsafe  that  they  should  be  suffered  to  multi- 
ply anywhere,  unless  placed  under  the  constant  supervision  of 
the  State. 


(')  For  the  gay  license  of  Port  Eoyal  see  Sainte-Beuve,  Port  Eoyal,  i. 
For  a  darker  i)icture  of  an  early  period,  Harduiu,  Con.,  i.,  p.  1398. 


MONKISH  RULE.  173 

From  the  seventli  to  the  sixteenth  century  the  monks  ruled 
the  world.  The  haughtiest  and  most  hated  of  the  Popes,  a 
Hildebrand  or  an  Innocent  III.,  were  monks,  and  every  as- 
sembly of  the  papal  bishops  was  controlled  in  its  deliberations 
by  the  monkish  rule.  In  a  Seventh  Council  (746),  whose 
ecumenicity  might  well  be  admitted,  image  -  worship  was  con- 
demned, and  images  declared  the  instruments  of  Satan.(')  The 
monks  rebelled ;  the  Pope  led  them  against  the  emperor  and 
the  Church ;  a  new  council  was  assembled  at  Nice ;  and  the 
indispensable  idols  were  restored  and  defended  in  language 
that  was  adopted  in  the  Council  of  Trent.  Charlemagne  dic- 
tated, he  could  not  write,  four  books  against  the  popular  su- 
perstition, and  the  bishops  of  the  East  and  the  West  seem  to 
have  sustained  the  imperial  faith ;  yet  the  monks  and  the 
Popes  were  successful,  after  a  conflict  of  a  century. (^)  AYe 
have  no  space  to  notice  the  various  papal  councils  of  this  dark 
period;  the  warrior  caste  of  the  Middle  Ages  submitted  de- 
voutly to  the  monkish  rule ;  and  a  war  of  extermination  was 
incessantly  waged  against  that  large  body  of  enlightened  and 
humble  Christians  who,  under  the  name  of  Yaudois,  Lollards, 
or  Cathari,  seem  in  every  age  to  have  preserved  the  pure  traits 
of  the  Gospel  faith.  At  length,  however,  a  council  was  held 
whose  important  results  deserve  a  momentary  attention. 
Pope  Urban  II.,  in  1095,  assembled  at  Clermont  and  Placen- 
tia  an  immense  host  of  priests,  knights,  nobles,  and  princes, 
and  preached  in  glowing  eloquence  the  duty  of  snatching  the 
Holy  Places  from  the  control  of  the  iconoclastic  Saracens. 
Europe  caught  his  superstitious  ardor,  and  for  more  than  two 
centuries  continued  to  pour  forth  its  wealth  of  manly  and 
martial  vigor  in  a  wasteful  frenzy  on  the  plains  of  Syria. 
The  Curtian  gulf  was  never  tilled.  The  energy  of  nations, 
which,  if  directed  to  honest  labor  and  practical  improvement, 
might  have  civilized  and  cultivated  the  world,  was  squander- 
ed in  obedience  to  the  cruel  suggestions  of  a  monkish  dream- 
er. The  Cathari  or  dissenters  wi'ote,  spoke,  or  preached 
against  the  wild  delusion ;  they  asserted  that  the  Christian 

(')  Milman,  Hist.  Lat.  Christ.,  ii.,  p.  171.  C)  Id.,  ii.,  p.  184. 


174:  ECUMENICAL  COUNCILS. 

had  no  right  to  kill  even  a  Saracen,  and  that  the  true  way  of 
spreading  the  Gospel  in  the  East  was  by  the  gentle  persuasion 
of  a  holy  life.  Their  remonstrances  were  answered  by  the 
rude  denunciations  of  the  papal  preachers,  by  the  whip,  the 
torture,  and  the  stake.  War  and  bloodshed  became  the  chief 
employment  of  the  Papal  Church  and  its  martial  adherents, 
and  for  two  centuries  the  Popes  maintained  their  place  at  the 
head  of  Christendom  by  exciting  general  massacres  of  the 
Protestants  of  Provence  or  Piedmont,  and  by  driving  the 
young  generations  of  Europe  to  the  charnel-house  of  the  East. 
One  of  the  most  startling  effects  of  this  monkish  delusion 
was  the  Crusade  of  the  little  children.  A  band  of  fifty  thou- 
sand children  from  Germany  and  France  set  out  in  1212  to 
redeem  the  Holy  Sepulchre.  A  peasant  child  of  Yendorae 
first  assumed  the  cross  in  France,  and  soon  an  increasing 
throng  of  boys  and  girls  gathered  around  him  as  he  passed 
from  Paris  to  the  South,  and  with  a  touching  simplicity  de- 
clared that  they  meant  to  go  to  Jerusalem  to  deliver  the  sep- 
ulchre of  the  Saviour.(')  Their  parents  and  relations  in  vain 
endeavored  to  dissuade  them ;  they  escaped  from  their  homes ; 
they  wandered  away  without  money  or  means  of  subsistence ; 
and  they  believed  that  a  mii'acle  would  dry  up  the  Mediter- 
ranean Sea  and  enable  them  to  pass  safely  to  the  shores  of 
Syria.  At  length  a  body  of  seven  thousand  of  the  French 
children  reached  Marseilles,  and  here  they  met  with  a  strange 
and  unlooked-for  doom.  At  Marseilles  were  slave-traders  who 
were  accustomed  to  purchase  or  steal  children  in  order  to  sell 
them  to  the  Saracens.  Two  of  these  monsters,  Ferrers  and 
Porcus,  engaged  to  take  the  young  Crusaders  to  the  Holy  Land 
without  charge,  and  they  set  sail  in  seven  sliips  for  the  East.(°) 
Two  of  the  vessels  were  sunk  on  the  passage  with  all  their 
passengers ;  tlie  others  arrived  safely,  and  the  unhappy  chil- 
dren were  sold  by  their  betrayers  in  the  slave-markets  of  Al- 

(')  This  strange  event  is  well  attested.  See  Gescliichte  der  Krenzziige, 
Wilkeii,  vi.,  p.  7:  "So  wunderljar  diese  Erscbeinung  war,  so  ist  sie  docb 
durch  die  Zeugnisse  glaubwiirdiger  Gescbicbtscbreiber  so  fest  begriindet," 
etc.     And  Micbaud,  ii.,  p.  202. 

(=)  Wilken,vi.,pp.81,82. 


COUNCIL   OF  CONSTANCE.  175 

exandria  or  Cairo.  Other  large  bodies  of  children  came  from 
Germany  across  the  Alps.  Many  perished  from  hunger,  heat, 
disease ;  a  few  were  enabled  to  die  on  the  sacred  soil  of  Syria ; 
and  it  is  estimated  that  fifty  thousand  of  the  flower  of  Eu- 
ropean youth  were  lost  in  this  most  remarkable  of  the  Cru- 
sades.Q 

Constance,  the  scene  of  the  next  important  council,  stands 
on  the  shore  of  that  lovely  lake  that  feeds  the  romantic  Ehine. 
It  has  long  sunk  into  decay.  In  the  last  century  the  grass  was 
growing  in  its  principal  street.(^)  Its  air  of  desolation  and  de- 
cline formed  a  striking  contrast  to  the  busy  Swiss  towns  on 
the  neighboring  lakes,  and.  it  still  slumbers  under  the  fatal  in- 
fluence of  a  Catholic  rule.  The  only  noted  spots  in  Constance 
are  a  dark  dungeon,  a  few  feet  square,  in  which  John  IIuss 
was  confined,  the  rude  Gothic  hall  where  he  was  tried,  the  min- 
ster where  he  was  condemned,  the  place  where  he  was  burned, 
the  swift -flowing  river  into  which  his  ashes  were  cast,  and 
which  his  persecutors  hoped  would  bear  away  all  that  remain- 
ed of  their  illustrious  victim  into  endless  oblivion.  Yain 
hope !  Warriors  and  princes,  priests,  abbots,  monks,  cons]3ired 
to  blot  from  existence  a  single  faint  and  feeble  being,  a  child 
of  poverty  and  toil.  They  burned  his  books ;  they  cast  his 
ashes  into  the  Rhine.  And  to-day  all  Bohemia  assembles  to 
do  honor  to  the  names  of  IIuss  and  his  disciple  Jerome,  and 
to  carry  into  execution  the  principles  of  freedom  and  progress 
they  advocated  four  centuries  ago. 

The  Council  of  Constance  met  in  1414.  Three  rival  Popes 
were  then  contesting  each  other's  claim  to  the  papacy.(^)  Each 
Pope  had  his  adherents,  and  for  nearly  forty  years  priests, 
rulers,  and  laity  had  lived  in  doubt  as  to  the  true  successor  of 
St.  Peter.  It  was  plain  that  there  could  not  be  three  infalli- 
ble potentates  on  the  same  throne ;  yet  each  pretender  assert- 
ed his  claim  with  equal  vigor,     Gregory,  Benedict,  and  John 

C)  Micbaud,  iii.,  p.  441. 

(')  Coxe,  Travels  in  Switzerland,  Letter  iii.     The  dungeon  is  eight  feet 


long,  six  broad. 


(^)  Concilium  Constantiensis,  Labbe,  xvi.,  p.  4  et  seq.     The  Council  of 
Pisa  had  attempted  iu  vain  to  remove  the  schisui,  1410.     See  Leufaut,  Pise. 


176  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

launched  aiiatlieraas  against  each  other;  and  a  generation 
lived  and  died  uncertain  whether  it  had  not  adored  and  obey- 
ed an  heretical  Pope.(')  John  XXIIL,  in  the  opinion  of  his 
age  one  of  the  most  abandoned  of  men,  was  persuaded  or  en- 
trapped by  the  cardinals  and  the  emperor  into  summoning  a 
general  council ;  and  Constance,  on  the  borders  of  Switzerland 
and  Germany,  was  selected  as  the  place  of  meeting.  The 
council  met  at  a  period  of  singular  interest  in  history,(")  Not 
only  was  the  papacy  divided  between  three  Popes,  but  that 
strong  and  wide  opposition  to  the  papal  and  the  monkish  rule 
which  seems  to  have  existed  in  every  age  was  now  showing 
itself  in  unusual  strength.  England  was  half  converted  to  the 
doctrines  of  AVycliffe ;  Bohemia  and  its  king  shared  the  free 
opinions  of  Huss ;  the  new  literature  of  Italy  was  skeptical 
or  indifferent ;  France  and  Germany  were  already  shocked  at 
the  vices  of  the  monks ;  while  industry  and  commerce  were 
rapidly  introducing  ideas  of  human  equality  that  must  finally 
destroy  the  supremacy  of  the  feudal  lords.  The  warrior  caste 
as  well  as  the  priestly  was  threatened  by  the  religious  reform- 
ers, and  both  united  vigorously  at  the  Council  of  Constance 
to  crush  the  progress  of  revolution. (')  They  strove  to  rebuild 
and  reanimate  the  established  Churcli,  to  intimidate  the  re- 
formers, and  to  destroy  forever  the  rising  hopes  of  the  people. 
For  the  moment  they  succeeded.  The  Council  of  Con- 
stance was  the  most  splendid  gathering  of  priests  and  princes 
Europe  had  ever  seen.  The  Emperor  Sigismund  attended  its 
sittings,  with  all  the  German  chiefs  and  prelates.  The  Pope, 
John  XXIIL,  came,  followed  by  a  throng  of  Italian  cardinals 
and  bishops,  hoping  to  control  its  proceedings.  Almost  every 
European  sovereign  was  represented  by  an  embassador.^ 
The  little  city  of  Constance  shone  with  the  pomp  of  royal  and 
noble  retinues,  with  the  red  robes  of  cardinals,  and  the  ermine 
and  jewels  of  ecclesiastical  princes ;  riot  and  license  filled  its 

(')  Labbe,  Con.,  xvi.,  p.  4. 

(°)  Lenfaut,  Histoirc  tin  Coiicilc  do  Coustauce,  Preface. 
(')  Lenfant  notices  the  influence  of  the  laity  on  the  council. 
(^)  Lenfaut,  Preface,  p.  21.     There  were  150  bishops,  100  abbots,  30  car- 
dinals, 3  patriarchs. 


DEPOSITION  OF  A   POPE.  177 

streets ;  and  the  Council  of  Constance  was  noted  for  the  cor- 
rupt morals  of  its  members,  and  the  shameless  conduct  of  the 
prelates  of  the  established  Church.  Its  sittings  began  No- 
vember, 1414,  and  continued  until  April,  1418.  Its  proceed- 
ings were  marked  by  a  singular  boldness.  It  deposed  John 
XXIII.  for  his  notorious  vices  and  his  alleged  contumacy ;  re- 
moved Gregory  and  Benedict ;  and  elected  a  new  Pope,  Mar- 
tin Y.,  who  was  finally  acknowledged  by  all  Europe  as  the 
successor  of  St.  Peter.  It  declared  that  the  council  was  supe- 
rior to  the  Pope,(')  and  heard  with  attention  the  eloquent  ser- 
mon of  Gerson,  Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Paris,  in  which 
he  defended  the  privileges  of  a  united  Christendom  against 
the  claims  of  the  Bishop  of  Rome.  It  provided  that  a  general 
council  should  be  summoned  every  five  or  seven  years ;  and  it 
strove  to  limit  the  rapacity  of  Rome  by  relieving  the  clergy 
from  its  exactions.  In  order  to  prevent  the  undue  influence 
of  the  Italians,  the  council  divided  all  its  members  into  four 
nations  or  classes  ;  each  nation  had  a  single  vote,  and  a  major- 
ity determined  the  result.  These  revolutionaiy  movements 
have  made  the  Council  of  Constance  odious  to  the  succeedino; 
Popes.  Its  canons  have  been  disregarded,  its  authority  de- 
nied ;  and  no  devout  Roman  Catholic  would  now  venture  to 
assert  what  was  plainly  the  opinion  of  the  Roman  Church  in 
the  dawn  of  the  fifteenth  century,  that  the  Pope  is  inferior  to 
the  council. 

Having  ended  the  schism  in  the  Papal  Church,  the  Council 
of  Constance  next  proceeded  to  crush  heresy  and  reform.  To 
the  corrupt  monks  and  priests  of  that  barbarous  age  the  chief 
of  heretics  was  the  pure  and  gentle  Huss.  A  child  of  pover- 
ty, educated  among  the  people,  John  Huss  had  come,  a  poor 
scholar,  to  the  famous  University  of  Prague.(^)  His  mother 
brought  him  from  his  native  village  to  be  matriculated,  and 
on  the  road  fell  on  her  knees  and  recommended  him  to  Heav- 
en.    Maintained  by  charity,  he  studied  with  ardor ;  his  mind 


(*)  Leiiftxnt,!., p. 22, Preface;  Labbe,  Con.,  xvi.,  p.  8.     Gregory  aud  Ben- 
edict do  not  admit  itiS  claims. 
(^)  Leiifaiit,  i.,  p.  24. 

12 


178  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

was  fed  with  scholastic  learning ;  he  became  a  preacher,  vig- 
orous and  original ;  and  in  the  Chapel  of  Jjethlehem  crowded 
congregations  listened  to  the  inspired  lessons  of  the  ardent 
priest.  IIuss  had  early  formed  a  clear  conception  of  a  living 
Antichrist,  a  creature  made  up  of  blasphemy  and  hypocrisy, 
of  corruption  and  crime ;  and  of  a  pure  and  lovely  form,  the 
Church  of  the  early  age.(')  To  the  one  he  gave  all  his  love 
and  conhdence,  to  the  other  an  undying  hate.  The  Antichrist 
was  Rome.  The  vices  and  stupid  ignorance  of  the  monks,  the 
shameless  license  of  the  clergy,  the  insolent  pride  of  the  bish- 
ops, the  rivalry  of  the  contending  Popes,  convinced  the  ardent 
reformer  that  the  established  Church  had  long  ceased  to  be 
Christian.  He  inveighed  in  vigorous  sermons  and  treatises 
against  every  form  of  corruption.  He  denounced  the  monks 
and  the  Popes,  indulgences.  Crusades,  and  a  thousand  enormi- 
ties. Jerome  of  Prague,  who  had  lived  at  Oxford,  brought 
him  over  the  writings  of  Wycliffe,  and  the  two  friends  studied 
and  profited  by  the  clear  sense  of  the  English  reformer. 

At  length  the  poor  charity  scholar  became  the  most  emi- 
nent man  of  his  time.  His  native  land  acknowledged  his 
merit,  and  all  Bohemia  adopted  the  opinions  of  its  gifted  son. 
The  king  and  queen  were  his  warm  friends,  and  the  nobility 
and  the  commons  caught  the  ardor  of  reform.Q  Huss  was 
made  rector  of  that  great  university,  at  that  time  the  rival  of 
those  of  Paris  and  Oxford,  where  he  had  won  his  education ; 
and  Prague  became  the  centre  of  a  strong  impulse  toward 
progress  that  was  felt  in  every  part  of  Europe.  The  doctrines 
and  the  Bible  of  "Wycliffe  M'ere  expounded  at  the  only  great 
seat  of  learnino;  in  Germanv ;  England  and  Bohemia,  united 
by  friendly  ties,  seemed  about  to  throw  off  the  papal  rule ; 
the  vigor  of  IIuss,  the  genius  of  Jerome,  had  nearly  antici- 
pated the  era  of  Luther.  But  it  was  too  soon.  The  priestly 
caste  and  its  ignorant  instrument,  the  warrior  caste,  united  to 
destroy  the  first  elements  of  reformation,  and  the  monks  and 


(^)  See  Hnss,  Opuscula,  p.  14-23,  where  be  paiuts  the  face  and  form  of 
Antichrist,  its  month,  neck,  arms,  tail. 
(^)  Leufaiit,  i.,  p.  34. 


JOHN  MUSS.  179 

bishops  pursued  Hiiss  and  his  followers  with  their  bitterest 
malignity.  The  Archbishop  of  Prague  denounced  him  as  a 
heretic,  the  Pope  excommunicated  him ;  but  Huss  might  still 
have  escaped,  supported  by  his  sovereign,  Wenceslaus,  and  the 
admiration  of  his  countrymen,  had  he  not  been  betrayed  into 
the  power  of  his  foes.  The  Council  of  Constance  met  and 
summoned  the  reformer  before  its  hostile  tribunal.  The  chief 
vice  of  this  infamous  assembly  was  its  shameless  duplicity. 
The  sentiment  of  honor,  which  we  are  sometimes  told  was  the 
distinguishing  mark  of  this  age  of  chivalry,  was  plainly  un- 
known to  every  one  of  the  princes,  knights,  or  priests  who 
made  up  the  splendid  council.  They  deceived  the  Popes; 
they  corrupted  the  feeble  honesty  of  the  Emperor  Sigismund  ; 
they  openly  adopted  the  rule  that  no  faith  was  to  be  kept  with 
heretics ;(')  they  pledged  the  Roman  Church  to  a  system  of 
perpetual  falsehood  and  deceit. 

Huss  was  now  in  the  full  splendor  of  his  renown.  His 
name  was  illustrious  throughout  Europe,  and  his  eminent  tal- 
ents and  spotless  life  had  made  him  the  pride  and  oracle  of 
Bohemia.^)  He  was  nearly  forty  years  of  age.  His  appear- 
ance was  fine,  his  countenance  mild  and  engaging.  His  prom- 
inent features,  his  clear  and  well-cut  profile,  have  in  them  an 
Oriental  air.  He  wore  his  hair  and  beard  carefully  trimmed, 
and  dressed  in  neat  scholastic  attire.  In  the  society  of  fair 
women,  kings,  and  princes  his  manners  had  become  polished, 
his  carriage  singularly  attractive ;  and  his  natural  gentleness 
and  piety  threw  around  him  an  irresistible  charm.  As  Rector 
of  the  University  of  Prague  he  held  a  position  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world  not  inferior  to  that  of  many  princes  and  nobles; 
but  in  all  his  prosperity  he  had  ever  been  noted  for  his  humil- 
ity and  his  kindly  grace.  He  lived  above  the  world,  and  knew 
none  of  its  inferior  impulses.  Yet  had  he  not  been  able  to 
avoid  making  many  enemies.     He  had  offended  bitterly  the 

(*)  "Nee  aliqna  sibi  fides  aut  promissio  fie  jure  uaturali,  divino,  et  bu- 
raano  fuerit  in  prejudicium  Catholicse  fidei  observauda."  See  Hallani, 
Mid.  Ages,  p.  398. 

O  Tbe  Jesuit  editors,  Labbe,  Cou.,  xvi.,  p.  4,  insinuate  simulatione  sancti- 
iatis,  etc. 


180  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

German  students  and  professors  at  Prague,  and  tliey  had  with- 
drawn, in  number  about  five  thousand,  to  found  the  rival  col- 
lege at  Leipsie.  lie  was  the  chief  of  the  metaphysical  faction 
of  the  Realists;  the  Germans  and  the  French  were  chiefly 
Nominalists ;  and  in  the  tierce  quarrels  that  raged  between  the 
two  scholastic  parties  a  hatred  even  to  death  often  grew  up  be- 
tween the  opposing  chiefs.  The  rectors  of  the  University  of 
Paris  (Gerson)  and  of  Leipsie  (John  Hoffman)  looked  on  their 
opponent  at  Pi-ague  as  abominable  and  accursed ;  and  the 
Nominalists  afterward  boasted  that  the  death  of  Huss  was  due 
to  them  alone.  So  brutal  was  the  age  that  men  killed  each 
other  for  some  shadowy  difference  in  metaphysics ! 

Gerson  was  the  chief  theologian  of  the  time,  the  new  found- 
er of  the  liberties  of  the  Galilean  Church.  Yet  he  took  part 
in  all  the  frauds  of  the  Council  of  Constance,  saw  his  illustri- 
ous fellow-rector  pine  in  a  horrible  dungeon  and  die  at  the 
stake,  and  aided  in  his  destruction.  The  Rector  of  the  Uni- 
versity  of  Leipsie  also  shared  in  the  worst  acts  of  the  council. 
The  crimes  of  nobles  and  priests  were  instigated  by  the  most 
eminent  Catholic  scholars,  and  the  principles  of  elevated 
churchmen  were  no  more  humane  than  had  been  those  of 
their  Gothic  ancestors,  or  the  barbarians  of  a  Feejee  island. 
To  such  men  the  mild  purity  of  Huss  and  Jerome  was  a  per« 
petual  reproach.  They  could  not  endure  their  existence  upon 
the  same  earth.  They  strove  to  extirpate  them  forever,  and 
cast  their  ashes  into  the  rapid  Rhine. 

Fearless  of  their  enmity,  and  strong  in  his  consciousness  of 
innocence,  sustained  by  the  friendship  of  his  king  and  his 
country,  and,  above  all,  provided  with  a  safe-conduct  from  the 
Emperor  Sigismund,  IIuss  set  out  from  Prague  in  October  to 
obey  the  summons  of  the  council. (')  As  he  passed  through 
Germany  he  was  met  and  welcomed  by  immense  throngs  of 
the  people.  He  was  received  everywhere  as  the  champion  of 
human  rights.  Men  came  to  gaze  on  him  as  on  a  benefactor. 
Even  the  German  ecclesiastics,  it  is  said,  saluted  respectfully 
the  arch -heretic.     He  passed  safely  through  Nuremberg,  at- 

(')  Lcufant,  Constance,  i.,  p.  39. 


EUSS  AT  COXSTAXCE.  181 

tended  by  a  guard  of  lioiior,  and  entered  Constance  almost  in 
triumph,(')  He  evidently  feared  no  danger.  He  even  im- 
prudently defended  the  doctrines  of  Wycliffe  in  the  midst  of 
angry  monks  and  priests,  and  courted  their  malignity.  The 
Pope,  however,  John  XXHI.,  had  sworn  to  protect  him,  the 
Emperor  Sigismund  was  bound  for  his  safety,  and  all  Bohe- 
mia watched  over  the  life  of  Huss.  But  the  rule  had  been 
adopted  that  no  faith  was  to  be  kept  with  heretics.  Within  a 
few  days  after  his  arrival  Huss  was  seized,  cast  into  the  hor- 
rible dungeon  of  the  Dominican  convent,  and  fastened  by  a 
chain  to  the  floor.  (') 

He  was  now  in  the  toils  of  Antichrist,  and  was  to  feel  all 
the  extreme  malice  of  the  fearful  being  he  had  so  often  im- 
agined or  described.  Its  falsehood,  its  baseness,  its  savage 
and  unsparing  cruelty,  he  was  now  to  realize,  if  never  be- 
fore. The  Emperor  Sigismund  came  to  Constance  soon  after 
Huss's  imprisonment,  and  remonstrated  feebly  against  the  vio- 
lation of  his  safe-conduct ;  but  the  chiefs  of  the  council  soon 
convinced  him  that  the  Church  would  spare  no  heretic,  and 
Huss  was  left  to  languish  in  his  dungeon.(^)  Articles  of  ac- 
cusation were  drawn  up  against  him ;  false  witnesses  were 
brought  to  convict  him  of  crimes  he  had  never  committed ; 
he  w^as  persecuted  with  incessant  questions;  and  for  more 
than  six  months  the  great  orator  and  scholar  pined  in  a  dread- 
ful confinement.  At  length,  on  the  6th  of  July,  1415,  he  was 
dragged  from  his  dungeon  and  led  out  to  condemnation  and 
death. 

The  council  assembled  in  that  sombre  and  massive  minster 
whose  gloomy  pile  still  frowns  over  the  silent  streets  of  Con- 
stance.(')  The  Emperor  Sigismund  presided,  surrounded  by 
his  temporal  and  spiritual  peers.  A  throng  of  cardinals,  bish- 
ops, and  priests  assembled  to  take  part  in  the  proceedings,  and 
to  exult  over  the  doom  of  one  whose  holy  life  seemed  a  per- 
petual reproach  to  their  notorious  profligacy  and  corruption. 


C)  Lenfant,  i.,  pp.  39,  40. 

C)  Id.,  i.,  p.  60 ;  Coxe,  Travels  iu  S\Yitzerlancl,  Let. 

C)  Lenfant,  i.,  p.  76.  (')  Id.,  i.,  p.  401. 


182  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

The  clmrcli  was  filled  in  every  part  with  eager  spectators.  It 
had  been  carefully  arranged  for  that  singular  ceremonial  with 
which  the  holy  fathers  intended  to  degrade  their  victim  from 
his  priesthood  before  they  delivered  him  over  to  the  secular 
power.  In  the  midst  rose  a  platform,  on  which  were  placed 
the  robes  and  ornaments  of  a  priest,  and  where  IIuss  was  to 
be  robed  and  disrobed  in  presence  of  all  the  people.  A  sol- 
emn mass  was  performed,  and  while  emperor  and  priest  bowed 
in  adoration,  their  victim  was  kept  waiting  at  the  door  under 
a  guard  of  soldiers,  lest  his  presence  might  desecrate  the  sacred 
rite.(')  He  was  then  led  in,  pale,  faint,  and  worn  with  a  terri- 
ble imprisonment,  and  ascended  the  platform.  Here  he  knelt 
in  audible  prayer,  while  tl^e  Bishop  of  Lodi  delivered  a  ser- 
mon on  the  enormity  of  heresy ;  and  as  the  prelate  finished 
his  vmdictive  denunciation,  he  pointed  to  the  feeble  victim ; 
he  turned  to  the  powerful  emperor  and  cried  out,  "  Destroy 
this  obstinate  heretic  !"  . 

A  perfect  silence  reigned  throughout  the  immense  assem- 
bly. .  Various  proceedings  followed.  The  chai-ges  against 
Huss  were  read,  but  he  was  scarcely  permitted  to  reply  to 
them.  He  listened  on  hie  knees,  his  hairdo  raised  to  hca\  ■  n. 
Once  he  mentioned  aloud  his  safe-conduct  that  had  been  so 
shamefully  violated,  and  turned  his  sad  eyes  upon  the  em- 
peror. A  deep  blush  spread  over  Sigismund's  face ;  he  was 
strongly  moved.  It  is  said  that  long  after,  when,  at  the  Diet 
of  AVorms,  Charles  Y.  was  urged  to  violate  Luther's  safe-con- 
duct, he  replied,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  blush  like  my  predecessor 
Sigismund."  Yet  the  anecdote  can  hardly  be  authentic,  for 
Charles  was  never  known  to  blush  for  any  one  of  his  dishon- 
orable deeds.  Sentence  of  degradation  was  next  pronounced 
against  IIuss.  The  priests  appointed  for  that  duty  at  once  ap- 
proached him,  put  on  him  the  priestly  robes,  and  then  took 
them  otf.  They  then  placed  on  his  head  a  paper  crown,  on 
which  were  painted  three  demons  of  frightful  aspect,  and  on 
it  was  inscribed,  "  Chief  of  the  Heretics."  Huss  said  to  them, 
"  It  is  less  painful  than  a  crown  of  thorns."     They  mocked 

(')Leufuut,  i.,  p.  401. 


EXECUTIOX  OF  HUSS.  183 

liim  with  bitter  raillery,  and  then  led  him  away  to  execu- 
tion.(') 

He  went  from  the  church  to  the  place  of  execution  guard- 
ed by  the  officers  of  justice.  Behind  him  came,  in  a  long 
procession,  the  emperor,  the  prince  palatine,  their  courtiers, 
and  eight  hundred  soldiers.  A  vast  throng  of  people  follow- 
ed, who  would  not  be  turned  back.  As  Huss  passed  the  epis- 
copal palace  he  saw  that  they  were  already  burning  his  books, 
and  smiled  at  the  malice  of  his  enemies.  He  was  bound  to 
the  stake,  and  the  wood  piled  up  around  him.  Before  the 
pile  was  lighted  the  elector  palatine  advanced  and  asked  him 
to  recant  and  save  his  life.  He  refused.  He  prayed,  and  all 
the  multitude  praj^ed  with  him.  The  lire  was  lighted ;  he 
raised  his  arms  and  eyes  toward  heaven,  and  as  the  flames 
ascended  he  was  heard  joyfully  singing  a  hymn  of  praise. 
Higher,  higher  rose  his  dying  chant,  until  his  voice  mingled 
with  the  songs  of  angels  above.('^) 

The  ashes  of  John  Huss,  his  clothes,  and  even  his  simple 
furniture,  were  cast  into  the  Rhine,  lest  his  followers,  might 
preserve  them  as  relics  of  the  martyr.  But  the  Bohemians 
afterward  gathered  the  earth  on  which  he  suffered,  Lnd  carried 
it  away.  His  friend,  Jerome  of  Prague,  was  burned  the  next 
year,  by  order  of  the  Council  of  Constance.  A  scholar,  a  man 
of  classic  refinement  and  feeling,  the  learned  Poggio,  heard 
his  eloquent  defense  before  the  council,  witnessed  his  happy 
martyrdom,  and  declared  that  Jerome  had  revived  in  his  gen- 
ius and  his  philosophy  the  highest  excellence  of  Greece  and 
Pome :  the  modern  pagan  did  not  perceive  how  he  had  sur- 
passed it.  Bohemia  has  never  ceased  to  lament  and  honor 
her  gifted  sons,  and  the  world  is  just  becoming  deeply  con- 
scious of  what  it  owes  to  Huss  and  Jerome  of  Prague,  the 
forerunners  of  Luther. 

In  July,  1431,  a  council  assembled  at  Basle  still  more  revo- 
lutionary in  its  character  than  that  of  Constance.(')    The  Pope, 

(')  Leufaut,  i.,  p.  408. 

(')  7<Z.,  i., p. 415 :  "His  voice  sounded  cheerfully  above  the  flames." 

(')  Id.,  Council  of  Basle ;  Mosheim,  ii.,  p.  502. 


18-i  ECUAIEXICAL   COUNCILS. 

Eugenius  IV.,  attempted  to  dissolve  the  council ;  tlie  council 
deposed  the  Pope,  and  elected  another  in  his  place.  A  long 
controversy  followed,  and  a  new  schism  in  the  lioman  Church. 
Eugenius  summoned  a  council  of  his  own  adherents,  and  thus 
two  popes  and  two  councils  contended  for  the  supremacy  of 
the  Christian  world.  But  the  quarrel  was  terminated  by  the 
triumph  of  the  papal  faction.  At  the  Council  of  Basle  was 
planned  a  temporary  union  between  the  Latin  and  the  Greek 
churches,  which  soon  ended  in  their  complete  separation.  The 
bold  effort  of  this  great  council  to  control  the  papacy  wholly 
failed,  and  from  its  dissolution  Home  gained  new  strength. 
Each  succeeding  Pope  enlarged  his  authority,  defied  public 
opinion,  opposed  every  effort  to  reform  the  Church,  and  threw 
the  shield  of  his  infallibility  over  the  vices  and  disorders  of 
the  clergy.  The  monks  again  ruled  mankind.  The  Domini- 
cans invented  the  Spanish  Inquisition,  and  persecuted  heretics 
with  subtle  malice.  Convents  and  nunneries  became  centres 
of  corruption,  and  the  favorite  subject  of  the  satires  of  Chau- 
cer, of  Rabelais,  of  Erasmus,  or  of  Luther  is  the  degraded  and 
dissolute  monk. 

At  length  the  Peformation  came.  The  conscience  of  man- 
kind, which  had  been  apparently  forever  suppressed  with  the 
martyrdom  of  Huss  and  Jerome,  found  a  new  expression  in 
the  commanding  genius  of  Luther,  and  the  intellect  of  Eu- 
rope awoke  at  his  powerful  summons.(')  He  dissolved  the 
spell  of  monkish  delusion  and  tyranny.  He  consolidated  into 
a  powerful  party  that  wide  but  disunited  opposition  which 
almost  from  the  age  of  Constantine  had  looked  with  horror 
and  shame  upon  the  pride  and  corruption  of  the  established 
Church.  The  pure  and  the  good  of  every  land — the  spiritual 
descendants  of  the  Catliari.  the  Albigenses,  the  Yaudois,  or 
the  Wycliffites ;  the  Inimble  and  gentle  Christians  of  Bohe- 
mia, France,  and  even  of  Italy  and  Spain — now  ventured  to 
unite  in  a  generous  hope  that  the  reign   of  Antichrist  was 

(')  Pallavicino  (Bibliotheca  Classica  Sacra,  Roma,  1847,  Istoria,  etc.) 
thinks  the  Hussites  aud  the  Wakleiises  blots  on  the  fair  face  of  the  Church 
that  should  long  ago  have  been  extirpated,  i.,  p.  79. 


EEFORMATION.  185 

over.(')  Tradition  and  false  miracles,  tlie  indidgences,  the 
worship  of  images  and  saints,  the  idolatry  of  the  mass,  the 
horrors  of  the  monastic  system,  seemed  about  to  pass  swiftly 
away  before  the  voice  of  reason  and  of  conscience ;  the  pure 
faith  and  practice  of  the  GosjDel  seemed  ready  to  descend  again 
on  man.  In  the  year  1 540  a  general  and  peaceable  reformation 
of  the  whole  Christian  world  was  possible.  Already  Spain 
itself  was  filled  with  Protestants,  Italy  was  sighing  for  a 
purer  faith,  the  Scriptures  were  studied,  and  reform  demand- 
ed in  Rome  and  ]Sraples.(°)  France  was  eager  for  religious 
progress ;  the  vigorous  Xorth  was  already  purified  and  set 
free ;  and  had  some  wise  and  gentle  spirit  controlled  the  pa- 
pal councils,  some  pure  Erasmus  or  a  generous  Pole,  and  from 
the  Roman  throne  breathed  peace  and  good-will  to  man,  an 
age  of  unprecedented  progress  might  have  opened  upon  the 
world.  The  warrior  caste  which  had  so  long  preyed  upon  the 
people  would  have  sunk  into  decay.  The  priestly  caste  would 
have  lost  its  vices  and  its  pride.  The  industrial  classes,  which 
in  Spain,  France,  Italy,  Germany,  formed  the  chief  part  of  the 
reformers,  might  have  risen  to  control  the  State,  and  Europe 
would  have  been  free. 

The  next,  the  last  great  papal  council — the  most  mischiev- 
ous of  them  all — came  to  destroy  the  rising  hopes  of  man- 
kind. It  breathed  war,  not  peace.  It  spread  irreconcilable 
enmity  among  nations.  It  leagued  the  warriors  and  the 
priests  in  a  deadly  assault  upon  the  working-man.  It  declared 
war  against  the  factory  and  the  workshop,  the  printing-press 
and  the  school.  It  crushed  the  industry  of  Italy  and  Spain ; 
it  banished  the  frugal  and  thoughtful  Huguenots  from  France ; 
it  strove  in  vain  to  make  Holland  a  desolate  waste,  and  to 
blight  in  its  serpent  folds  the  rising  intellect  of  England ;  it 
aimed  vain  blows  at  the  genius  of  Germany  and  the  North ; 
it  held  in  bondage  for  three  miserable  centuries  the  mind  of 


Q)  Pallavicino,  i.,  p.  99  :  "  Sequaci  di  Giovanni  Huss  condannato,"  etc. 

(^)  Among  the  noted  Italian  reformers  were  Peter  Martyr,  Bishop  Vcr- 
gerio  and  his  brother,  his  friend  Spira.  See  Middleton,  Evan.  Biog.,  i., 
p.  510 ;  Sarpi,  i.,  ]i.  Ull  ct  seq. ;  Kauke,  Hist.  Poises,  i.,  p.  70  et  scq. 


186  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

the  decaying  Soutli.  To  the  Council  of  Trent,(')  by  an  easy 
deduction,  may  be  traced  the  great  war  which  Charles  Y. 
waged  against  his  German  subjects,  and  the  disastrous  cru- 
sades of  his  sou  Philip  against  the  Netherlands  and  Queen 
Elizabeth ;  the  wild  rancor  of  the  League  and  the  Guises ;  the 
persecutions,  worse  thau  those  of  Diocletian,  of  Louis  XIV. ; 
the  Thirty  Years'  "War,  in  which  Wallenstein  and  Tilly  made 
half  Germany  a  blood-stained  wilderness ;  the  fatal  bigotry  of 
Austria ;  the  tyranny  of  Sj^ain.  It  was  a  flame  of  discord,  a 
harbinger  of  strife;  and  to  the  student  of  history  no  specta- 
cle is  more  startling  than  that  torrent  of  woe  which  descended 
upon  mankind  from  the  deliberations  and  the  anathemas  of  a 
scanty  gathering  of  bishops  and  Jesuits  in  the  rocky  heights 
of  the  Tyrol. 

In  1542  the  moment  Of  hope  had  passed.  The  Pope,  Paul 
III.,  decreed  death  to  the  heretic  and  the  reformei".  Loyola 
and  the  Jesuits  ruled  at  Rome,  and  the  doctrine  of  passive 
obedience  became  tlie  single  principle  of  the  papal  faith. 
The  Inquisition  was  rapidly  exterminating  every  trace  of  op- 
position to  the  hierarchy  in  Italy ;  a  dead  and  dull  submission 
reigr-3d  in  Yenice  or  in  Iiomc;  and  the  papal  missionaries, 
exulting  in  their  success  at  home,  trusted  soon  to  carry  the 
effective  teaching  of  the  Holy  Office  into  the  rebellious  cities 
of  Germany  and  the  Korth.  With  what  joy  w^ould  they  see 
Luther  and  Melanchthon  chained  to  the  stake,  like  IIuss  and 
Jerome !  How  proudly  should  the  papal  legions  sweep  over 
the  land  of  Zvvingli  and  the  home  of  Calvin !  With  such 
fond  anticipations,  a  league  for  the  extirpation  of  heresy  was 
fonned  between  the  Pope,  Paul  III.,  and  the  Emperor,  Charles 
Y.  The  decrees  of  the  Council  of  Trent  were  to  be  enforced 
by  the  arms  of  the  two  contracting  parties ;  the  Protestants 
of  Germany  were  to  be  the  earliest  victims  of  the  alliance; 
and  all  who  had  apostatized  from  the  ancient  faith  were  to  be 
compelled  to  return  to  the  bosom  of  the  Holy  See.Q     The 

(')  Concils  von  Trieut  Canones  iind  Bescliliisse,  vou  D.  Wilhelm  Smets, 
an  authorized  editiou,  gives  all  the  proceediugs ;  Sarpi  aud  Pallaviciuo 
the  history. 

C)  Robertson,  Charles  V.,  book  viii. 


COUNCIL   OF  in  EXT.  187 

meaning  of  this  famous  compact  between  the  Bishoj)  of  Rome 
and  the  emperor  can  not  be  misunderstood.  It  was  a  project 
to  crush  freedom  of  tliought  and  religious  progress  by  wars 
and  massacre,  the  rack  and  the  stake ;  an  effort  to  make  the 
papal  Inquisition  universal. 

If,  as  has  been  done  by  some  modern  historians  and  most 
of  the  Romish  writers  who  have  described  the  Council  of  Trent 
to  the  present  age,  we  could  separate  it  wholly  from  the  his- 
tory of  its  period,  and  look  upon  it  merely  as  the  gathering  of 
a  few  bishops  of  more  or  less  learning  and  piety  anxious  only 
to  fix  tlie  faith  of  their  Church  and  to  define  the  form  of  their 
belief,(')  we  might  excuse  its  rash  judgments,  its  imprudent 
conservatism,  and  the  intolerance  of  its  countless  anathemas; 
we  might  submit  with  a  smile  to  hear  the  doctrines  of  Luther 
and  the  Bible  pronounced  forever  accursed,  and  to  be  com- 
manded to  pay  a  deep  reverence  to  images  under  the  penalty 
of  excommunication ;(")  we  might  pardon  the  critical  blind- 
ness, if  not  the  w^ant  of  taste,  that  placed  the  Book  of  Tobit 
on  a  level  with  the  Gospel  of  St.  John  ;(^)  we  might  remem- 
ber only  as  examples  of  monkish  superstition  in  the  sixteenth 
centui-y  the  attempt  to  chain  the  press,(*)  to  promote  the  sale 
of  indulgences,^  the  strange  theory  of  tlie  mass,  the  feeble 
reasoning  on  the  sacraments ;  and  we  could  admit  that,  under 
the  irresistible  influence  of  that  impulse  toward  reform  begun 
by  the  anathematized  heretics,  the  council  strove  honestly  to 
correct  some  of  the  errors  of  the  Eomish  Church.  But,  unhap- 
pily for  mankind,  the  Council  of  Trent  had  a  far  less  innocent 
purpose.  Its  chief  promoters  were  men  who  had  already  re- 
solved on  the  destruction  of  its  opponents.  Every  member 
of  the  synod  knew  that  the  principles  it  laid  down,  the  prac- 
tices it  enjoined,  were  rejected  and  condemned  by  a  large  part 

(')  Hallam,  Lit.  Europe,  ii.  p.  301,  n.,  treats  it  merely  as  an  iutellectual 
ageut.     He  does  not  alhule  to  its  results. 

C)  "  Et  nunc  etiam  damnat  ecclesia,"  Sessio  xxv.,  De  Veueratione  Suuc- 
toruui,  etc. 

(^)  Sessio  iv.,  De  Canonicis  Scripturis. 

(*)  De  Libris  Proliibitis,  Reg.  ii.,  p.  3  et  seq. 

C)  Sessio  XXV.,  Decretuni  de  Indulgentibus. 


188  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

of  the  Cliristian  world ;  that  they  could  only  be  enforced  by 
tire  and  the  sword ;  that  they  were  abont  to  be  the  occasion 
of  a  bitter  war  between  the  reformers  and  the  papal  faction ; 
that  every  anathema  nttered  by  the  council  would  be  written 
in  letters  of  blood  upon  every  Protestant  land.  Yet  its  mem- 
bers proceeded  calmly  with  their  labors.  They  rejected  every 
plan  of  compromise,  every  sentiment  of  mercy.  They  refused 
to  listen  to  the  tolerant  suggestions  of  the  Galilean  Church. 
They  obeyed  every  intimation  of  the  Pope  and  the  Jesuits ; 
and  they  were  plainly  prepared  to  bind  to  the  stake  not  some 
eloquent  Jerome  or  spotless  Huss  alone,  but  whole  nations 
and  o^enerations  of  reformers. 

At  Trent  among  the  snow -clad  hills  of  the  Tyrol,  on  the 
banks  of  the  rapid  Athesis,  the  papal  legates  and  a  few  bish- 
ops assembled  in  December,  15J:5,  and  Cardinal  Del  Monte, 
afterward  Pope  Julius  III.,  presided  at  its  first  session.  A 
second  was  held  in  January,  when  only  forty-three  members 
attended.  At  the  third,  February  4th,  1546,  the  Nicene  Creed 
was  recited  with  its  modern  additions.  But  with  the  fourth 
session,  April  18th,  1546,  the  business  of  the  council  began  by 
an  authoritative  determination  of  the  foundations  of  the  Eo- 
man  faith  ;  and  it  was  decided,  in  a  scanty  assembly  of  forty- 
eight  Italian,  German,  and  Spanish  bishops,  a  few  cardinals, 
and  the  papal  legates,  that  the  Scriptures  and  tradition,  the 
Old  Testament  with  the  apocryphal  books,  the  New  Testa- 
ment, and  the  opinions  of  the  fathers,  were  the  equal  and  the 
only  sources  of  religious  knowledge.(')  But  it  was  carefully 
enjoined,  at  the  same  time,  under  severe  penalties,  that  none 
but  the  Church  should  define  the  meaning  of  the  sacred  writ- 
ings. All  private  judgment  was  forbidden  ;  and  whoever 
ventured  to  think  for  himself  was  to  be  punished  by  the  legal 
authorities.(*)  Upon  this  broad  but  unstable  foundation  the 
council  now  proceeded  to  erect  that  religious  system  which 
for  three  centuries  has  ruled  at  Rome.     The  Pope  was  su- 

(')  Sessio  iv.,  Decretum  de  Canouicis  Scripturis. 

C)  "Qui  contraveuerint— poenis  a  jure  statutis  puuiautur."     See  Palla- 
viciuo,  iii.,  p.  261-272. 


THE  JESUITS  AT  TEEXT.  ISO 

preme  at  Trent  through  his  acute  agents ;  and  however  vigor- 
ous the  opposition  might  appear,  every  decision  of  the  assem- 
bly was  prepared  at  Kome,  and  was  carried  through  the  coun- 
cil by  the  controlling  influence  of  the  legates,  the  Jesuits,  and 
the  Italian  bishops.  It  was  Paul  III.,  Loyola,  and  Caraffa  who 
spoke  in  the  name  of  the  Church. 

The  sessions  continued  until  xVpril,  154T,  when,  on  the  pre- 
text that  an  epidemic  disease  was  prevailing  in  Trent,  the  Pope 
issued  a  bull  transferring  the  council  to  Bologna,  within  his 
own  territories,  where  it  would  be  more  perfectly  under  his 
control.  The  legates  and  the  papal  party  obeyed  the  man- 
date, but  Charles  Y.  ordered  his  German  bishops  to  remain 
at  Trent.  The  schism  continued  until  Paul  died,  when  his 
successor,  Julius  III.,  once  more  convened  the  assembly  at 
Trent.(')  It  remained  in  session  until  April,  1552,  when  the 
success  of  Protestant  arms  in  Germany  and  the  brilliant  ex- 
ploits of  the  Elector  Maurice  drove  the  bishops  in  alarm  from 
their  dangerous  locality. Q  The  council  was  prorogued  or  diss 
solved ;  and  for  ten  years  the  doctrines  of  the  Papal  Church 
remained  hidden  undefined  in  the  bosom  of  Pome.  They 
were  years  filled  with  remarkable  events.  The  order  of  the 
Jesuits  became  a  great  power  in  Europe,  and  its  acute  and  un- 
scrupulous members  had  instilled  into  the  minds  of  princes 
and  priests  the  doctrine  of  passive  obedience  to  Rome,  and  of 
relentless  war  against  heresy.  Loyola  guided  the  policy  of 
the  Papal  Church.  In  France  a  war  broke  out  between  the 
Huguenots  and  their  oppressors,  of  which  the  result  was  not 
to  be  determined  for  many  years,  but  which  finally  united  the 
French  bishops  in  hostility  to  reform.  A  great  triumph  was 
achieved  by  the  papal  party  in  England,  that  was  followed  by 
a  signal  overthrow.  Mary  succeeded  to  the  English  throne,  and 
as  the  wife  of  Philip  II.  gave  back  her  realm,  filled  with  the 
blood  of  the  martyrs,  to  the  Papal  See.  But,  in  1558,  Mary 
died  childless ;  and  Elizabeth,  the  representative  of  a  Protestant 
nation,  defied  the  anathemas  of  the  Pope.     Philip  11.  was  now 

(')  See  Bulla  Resumptionis — Julio  III.,  Sniets. 
(')  Sessio  xvi.,  Decretum  Suspeiisiouis,  etc. 


190  ECUMENICAL  COUNCILS. 

enforcing  the  decrees  of  the  earlier  Council  of  Trent  upon  the 
unhappy  Netherlands,  and  the  Prince  of  Orange  was  about  to 
found  a  new  nation.  Of  the  early  reformers  few  survived. 
Luther  and  ]\Ielanchthon  slept  side  by  side  in  the  castle  church 
at  Wittenberg.  Cranmer,  Ridley,  Latimer,  apparently  less 
fortunate,  had  died  like  Huss  and  Jerome.  The  aged  Calvin 
and  his  faithful  Beza  still  ruled  and  studied  at  Geneva — the 
last  of  that  brilliant  company  who  had  formed  the  day-stars 
of  the  Reformation. 

Pius  TV.,  in  January,  1562,  enforced  the  re-assembling  of 
the  council  at  Trent.  Loyola  was  dead,  and  the  fierce  Lainez 
ruled  over  the  Jesuits.  A  new  race  of  bishops  filled  the  coun- 
cil. Its  numbers  enlarged ;  its  intellectual  character  was  re- 
spectable ;  but  no  brilliant  Athanasius,  no  eloquent  Gregory, 
appeared  in  the  ranks  of  the  papal  prelates.  It  sat  for  near- 
ly two  years,  and  often  its  fierce  debates  and  angry  tumults 
revived  the  memories  of  Ej)hesus  and  Nice.(')  The  French 
faction,  the  Spanish,  and  the  papal  contended  with  a  violence 
that  seemed  at  times  to  threaten  the  dissolution  of  the  coun- 
cil and  an  irreparable  schism  in  the  disordered  Church.  The 
Spaniards  defended  with  vigor  the  divine  origin  of  the  bish- 
ops against  the  claims  of  the  papacy ;  the  French  suggested 
the  superiority  of  the  council  to  the  Pope,  demanded  the  cup 
for  the  laity,  and  even  advocated  the  marriage  of  the  clergy. 
A  French  embassador,  Du  Ferier,  the  Gregory  of  Trent,  de- 
nounced with  sharp  satire  the  feeble  superstition  of  the  coun- 
cil, and  declared  it  to  be  the  author  of  the  miseries  of  France  ;f ) 
the  corrupt  and  politic  Cardinal  Lorraine,  at  the  head  of  the 
French  delegation,  in  tumid  ^speeches  defended  the  Gallican 
policy.  Yet  the  papal  party,  led  by  the  Jesuits,  the  haughty 
Lainez  and  the  busy  Salmeron,  and  sustained  by  the  superior 
numbers  of  the  Italian  bishops,  succeeded  in  nearly  all  their 
objects.(')     They  threw  aside  with  contempt  the  whole  Galli- 

(')  Torellns,  in  Le  Plat,  vii.,  p.  205,  gives  an  account  of  a  fray  between 
the  Spaniards  and  Italians  ;  they  were  then  forbidden  to  carry  arms. 

C)  Pallavicino  notices  with  asperity  the  vigor  of  Ferier,  xi.,  p.  17;  xii., 
p.  20-23.     Sarpi,  viii.,  pp.  54, 55. 

(')  See  Bungcner,  Council  of  Trent,  trans.     A  useful  narrative,  p.  455. 


LAINEZ  AT  TRENT.  191 

can  policy ;  tliey  taught  perfect  submission  to  the  papal  rule. 
Lainez,  in  the  midst  of  an  excited  assembly,  declared  that  all 
who  opposed  the  supremacy  of  the  Pope  in  all  things  were 
Protestants  in  principle,  and,  with  haughty  looks,  almost  de- 
nounced his  adversaries  as  heretics.  The  contest  raged  for  a 
time  with  tierce  bitterness,  and  often  the  streets  of  Trent  were 
tilled  with  riot  and  bloodshed  from  the  encounters  of  the  re- 
tainers of  the  different  factions.  But  at  length  the  corrupt 
Cardinal  Lorraine,  a  true  Guise,  went  over  to  the  papal  side ; 
the  Spanish  faction  sank  into  silence ;  and,  one  by  one,  the 
most  extravagant  dogmas  of  the  mediaeval  Church  were  incor- 
porated into  the  creed  of  the  Romish  clergy.(')  From  the 
heights  of  Tyrol  the  tierce  Jesuits  and  monks  threw  down 
their  gage  of  defiance  and  of  hate  to  the  whole  Protestant 
world,  and  to  every  project  of  reform.  They  offered  to  the 
heretic  submission  to  the  Pope  or  death. 

Nothing  was  thought  of  but  traditional  observances ;  the 
usages  of  Rome  were  preferred  to  the  plain  teachings  of  the 
Scriptures.  Images  were  declared  sacred,  when  the  whole 
Jewish  and  Christian  theology  had  denounced  their  use — had 
commanded  the  soul  to  seek  a  direct  and  spiritual  union  with 
its  God.  The  gentle  lessons  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
were  transformed  into  an  endless  series  of  anathemas  that 
were  full  of  bitter  malevolence.  The  sacred  feast  of  the  dis- 
ciples was  converted  into  a  pompous  idolatry.^  For  the  apos- 
tles the  council  showed  still  less  respect  than  for  the  lessons 
of  their  Master.  Instead  of  the  industry,  temperance,  and 
frugality  inculcated  by  St.  Paul,  it  advocated  monkish  indo- 
lence and  priestly  intolerance.  It  condemned  the  marriages 
of  the  clergy,  when  St.  Peter  himself,  tlie  fancied  founder  of 
the  Roman  Church,  had  been  a  faithful  husband,  and  in  liis 
missionary  toils  had  been  accompanied  by  his  martyr  wife ;(') 
when  St.  Paul  had  instructed  his  pastors  or  presbyters  to  be 
prudent  husbands  and  fathers,  and  strict  in  the  education  of 

(')  Bnngener,  p.  627.  {'')  Sessio  xxii.,  De  Sacrificio  Missa-. 

(^)  1  Corintb.,  ix.,  5.      We  might  infer  tliat  all  the  apostles  had  mar- 
ried ;  Peter's  wife  was  martyred.     Clemeus  Alex.,  De  Moiiog.,  p.  8. 


192  ECUMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

tlieir  children ;  when  even  at  the  Council  of  Nice  the  monk- 
ish observance  had  been  rejected  at  the  request  of  an  ascetic. 
The  invocation  of  Mary  and  the  saints,  the  ■tvorship  of  relics, 
transubstantiation  and  interf  usion,(')  the  use  of  pompous  robes 
and  a  pagan  ritual,  confession,  indulgences,  and  endless  mod- 
ern observances,  were  enforced  by  dreadful  anathemas,  and  he 
who  ventured  even  to  hesitate  as  to  their  propriety  was  aban- 
doned to  the  care  of  the  Holy  Office.  The  use  of  the  Script- 
ures by  the  laity  was  in  effect  forbidden ;  the  prohibition  was 
made  total  by  succeeding  popes ;  and  the  instruction  of  the 
apostle  to  the  believer  to  search  and  try  the  grounds  of  his 
faith  was  treated  with  contempt  by  his  pretended  successors. 
Conscience  and  freedom  of  thought  were  to  be  wholly  sup- 
pressed. On  the  question  of  the  superiority  of  the  Pope  to 
the  council,  after  long  and  violent  debates,  no  open  decision 
was  made ;  but  the  matter  was,  in  fact,  determined  by  the  refer- 
ence of  all  the  proceedings  of  the  assembly  to  the  revisal  of  the 
Pope.  As  the  infallible  head  of  the  Church,  he  was  empowered 
to  reject  or  confirm  every  canon  of  the  Council  of  Trent.Q 

Winters  and  summers  had  passed  over  the  Roman  bishops 
for  nearly  eight  years('')  in  their  mountain  fastness,  as  they 
groped  amidst  the  endless  controversies  of  the  fathers  and 
studied  the  acts  of  Chalcedon  and  Nice.  We  admit  at  least 
their  perseverance  and  tlieir  weary  toil.  Trent  and  its  en- 
virons do  not  seem  to  have  been  always  an  agreeable  resi- 
dence. In  autumn  the  hot  sun  beat  upon  the  narrow  valley. 
In  winter  a  deluge  of  snow  or  rain  often  poured  down  upon 
the  little  city,  overflowed  the  rapid  Athesis,  and  swept  through 
the  watery  streets.(^)  Disease  was  often  prevalent,(^)  and  sev- 
eral eminent  delegates  died,  and  were  buried  with  pompous 
funerals.     The  people  of  the  mountains  were  rude,  and  not 

(')  Sessio  xvii.,  cap.  xi.  For  anathemas  see  Sessio  xxi.,  Can.  i.,  ii. ;  Ses- 
sio  xiii.,  Can.  iii.  C)  Sessio  xxv.,  De  Fine,  etc. 

(^)  The  conncil  sat  nearly  eighteen  years,  but  of  these  ten  are  included 
in  a  prorogation,  besides  the  schism  at  Bologna. 

(*)  Torellus,in  Le  Plat. 

(^)  An  influenza  sometimes  detorTui-iod  tlio  fate  of  a  proposition  for  re- 
form.    Sec  Sarpi,  lib.  vii. 


THE  COUXCIL   CLOSES.  193 

always  respectful ;  the  women  were  not  attractive,  and  suf- 
fered from  the  goitre ;(')  while  the  wits  of  the  Holy  City,  as 
of  the  Protestant  countries,  followed  the  council  with  sharp 
satires,  and  declared  that  its  inspiration  was  brought  in  a  car- 
pet-bag from  Rome.  Elizabeth  called  it  a  popish  conventicle. 
The  keen  and  ready  Protestant  controversialists  denounced  it 
as  a  band  of  persecutors.  The  Pope  was  enraged  at  its  tur- 
bulent discord;  and  all  Europe  longed  for  its  dissolution. 
Meantime,  far  below,  surged  on  the  wave  of  Reformation, 
and  Germany,  France,  and  the  Netherlands  resounded  with 
the  psalms  of  Marot  and  Beza ;  and  the  menacing  voice  of  the 
enraged  people  often  reached  the  ears  of  the  drowsy  prelates 
at  Trent.  The  hardy  North  threw  off  the  monkish  rule,  de- 
faced its  images,  broke  up  the  monasteries,  and  breathed  only 
defiance  to  the  cruel  bigotry  of  the  council.  Mary  of  Scot- 
land, in  a  piteous  letter  to  the  legates,  lamented  that  her  Cal- 
vinistic  subjects  would  not  suffer  her  to  send  bishops  to  the 
assembly  of  Antichrist.^)  Germany  had  secured  freedom  of 
thought  by  the  valor  of  Maurice  and  the  treaty  of  Passau. 
Geneva,  with  its  twenty-five  thousand  impoverished  citizens, 
shone  a  beacon  of  light  among  its  Swiss  mountains,  and  de- 
fied alike  the  hatred  and  the  covetousness  of  France,  Savoy, 
and  the  Pope.  The  Huguenots  were  fighting  in  France  for 
toleration,  and  the  council  sung  a  joyous  Te  Deum  over  the 
ineffectual  defeat  of  the  Prince  of  Conde.  It  was  time  for 
the  bishops  to  separate. 

The  proceedings  were  hurried  to  an  end.  Important  mat- 
ters of  faith,  affecting  the  destiny  of  immortal  souls,  were  de- 
termined with  imprudent  haste.  What  could  not  be  decided 
was  referred  to  the  Pope.  A  bishop  of  Nazianzum,  whose 
dullness  formed  a  bold  contrast  to  the  wit  and  pathos  of  the 
sainted  Gregory,  preached  a  farewell  discourse  in  which  he 
called  upon  mankind  to  adore  the  wisdom,  the  clemency,  the 
Christian  tolerance,  of  the  Council  of  Trent.(')     A  parting 

(')  Toiellns,  Le  Plat,  vii.,  p.  159-161.  (')  Le  Plat,  vii.,  p.  217. 

(')  "Aiulite  hfec,  omues  geiites,  auribus  percipite,  omucs  qui  habitatis 
orbera."     Smots,  Coiicils  von  Tiient,  p.  201. 

13 


104  ECUMEXICAL   COUNCILS. 

antiphoiial  was  sung ;  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine,  the  corrupt 
and  ambitious  Guise,  intoned  the  praises  of  the  cruel  Charles 
Y.,  the  immoral  Julius,  the  bigoted  Pius,  and  all  the  holy 
council,  and  pronounced  them  ever  blessed.  The  bishops 
and  cardinals  responded  with  a  loud  concurrence.  Once  more 
the  voice  of  Guise  rang  over  the  assembly.  Anathema  cunc- 
tf's  hcereticis !  And  all  the  bishops  and  cardinals  poured 
forth  an  eager  and  malevolent  response.  Anathema^  anaihe- 
ma!(^)  Meanwhile,  in  many  a  humble  cottage  in  the  neigh- 
boring valleys  of  Piedmont,  the  gentle  Yaudois,  the  children 
of  the  early  church,  were  singing  Christian  hymns  to  the  good 
Saviour,  and,  accustomed  to  persecution,  prayed  for  freedom 
to  worship  God.  Scarcely  did  they  hear  the  curse  invoked 
upon  them  from  the  heights  of  Trent.  Yet  it  was  to  ripen 
into  long  years  of  untold  suffering.  The  poor  and  humble 
were  to  be  torn  in  pieces,  tossed  from  their  native  crags  into 
dark  ravines,  cut  with  sharp  knives,  burned  in  raging  tires  by 
the  mighty  and  the  proud ;  and  Milton,  in  a  fierce  poetic 
frenzy,  was  to  cry  aloud  to  Heaven : 

"Avenge,  O  Lord!  thy  slaugliter'd  saiuts,  whose  bones 
Lie  scatter'd  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold." 

Such  was  the  Council  of  Trent ;  and  history  would  be  un- 
faithful to  its  sacred  trust — the  cause  of  truth  and  of  human 
progress  —  did  it  not  point  with  unerring  accuracy  to  the 
countless  woes  that  have  fallen  upon  man  from  the  dull  big- 
otry of  the  papal  bishops.  They  met  at  a  moment  when  the 
European  intellect  was  strongly  excited  by  a  new  impulse  to- 
ward the  good  and  the  true ;  when  men  longed  for  a  holier 
life,  a  purer  faith  than  had  been  the  possession  of  their  fathers. 
They  gave  them,  instead,  war  and  bitter  strife,  the  doctrine  of 
persecution,  the  visions  of  the  Middle  Ages.  It  is  sometimes 
said  that  a  reaction  in  favor  of  the  Roman  Church  followed 
upon  the  Council  of  Trent,  and  that  the  reformers  were  driven 
back  from  their  Southern  conquests  to  their  strongholds  in 
the  North.    They  lost,  indeed,  Bohemia  and  the  South  of  Ger- 

(')  Smets,  p.  200. 


THE  DECREES   OF  TRENT.  195 

many,  the  Netherlands  and  France.  But  neither  of  these 
triumphs  of  the  council  was  an  intellectual  one ;  its  doctrines 
were  nowhere  accepted  unless  enforced  by  powerful  armies 
and  the  slow  prevalence  of  the  Holy  Office.  The  followers 
of  Huss  were  extirpated  in  Bohemia;  the  Yaudois  were 
slaughtered  on  their  mountains  ;  Philip  II.  revived  the  medise- 
val  Church  on  the  ruins  of  Antwerp  and  Ghent ;  the  decrees 
of  the  Council  of  Trent  were  only  triumpliant  in  France 
when  Louis  XIV.  destroyed  Port  Poyal,  and  banished,  with 
terrible  persecutions,  the  gifted  Huguenots. 

For  a  brief  period  England  was  ruled  by  the  earlier  decis- 
ions of  the  famous  council,  and  Mary  enforced  the  faith  in 
tradition  by  the  fires  of  Smithfield.  But  not  even  the  specta- 
cle of  Latimer,  Ridley,  or  Hooper  perishing  at  the  stake  could 
convert  a  nation  that  preferred  the  teachings  of  the  Scriptures 
to  those  of  the  fathers  of  Trent.  England  shook  off  the  yoke 
of  the  schismatic  council  with  fierce  abhorrence.  Her  vigor- 
ous intellect  refused  to  submit  to  a  monkish  rule ;  and  soon  a 
Shakspeare,  a  Bacon,  a  Milton,  and  a  Johnson  proved  that  no 
mediaeval  foe  to  genius  enslaved  the  fortunate  land.  Through- 
out all  Northern  Germany  the  free  scliool  met  and  baffled  the 
theory  of  persecution.  Colleges  and  universities  succeeded 
to  the  monastery  and  the  cathedral,  and  the  land  of  Luther 
repelled  the  dogmas  of  the  Council  of  Trent.  The  Latin 
races  were  less  fortunate.  For  three  centuries  Italy  and 
Spain  have  slumbered  under  the  monkish  rule.  Every  anath- 
ema of  the  unsparing  council  has  been  enforced  upon  their 
unhappy  people ;  the  Press  has  been  silenced,  the  intellect  de- 
praved ;  industry  has  nearly  died  out.  The  Inquisition  linger- 
ed long  after  it  had  been  partially  suppressed  in  other  lands ;(') 
and  swarms  of  monks  and  fiiars  encouraged  indolence  and 
sapped  the  purity  of  nations.  But  within  a  few  years  even 
Italy  and  Spain  have  revolted  against  the  decrees  of  the 
Tridentine  Council.     The  people  of  the  two  most  Catholic 


(')  The  Spanish  luquisition  burned  a  poor  woman  for  sorcery  as  late  as 
1780.  See  Bourgoauue,  Travels  in  Spaui^  i.,  ch.  iii.  In  IGdO,  an  anto-da- 
i€  was  looked  upon  as  a  glorious  spectacle — a  festal  scene  for  the  faithful. 


196  ECVMENICAL   COUNCILS. 

lands  have  destroyed  the  monastic  system,  established  freedom 
of  thought,  of  religion,  and  of  the  Press,  and  have  plainly 
made  themselves  liable  to  the  severest  anathemas  chanted  in 
the  Cathedral  of  Trent. 

But  while  the  people  in  every  land  have  thus  rebelled 
against  monkish  tyranny,  the  priests  and  the  Pope,  the  only 
legal  representatives  of  the  Romish  Church,  have  proclaimed 
their  unchangeable  adhesion  to  the  decrees  of  their  last  great 
council.  To  them  the  free  school  and  the  free  press  are  as 
odious  as  they  were  to  Lainez  and  Del  Monte.  To  them  the 
monastery  is  as  dear  as  it  was  to  Gregory  and  Jerome.  They 
still  heap  anathemas  ujDon  the  married  clergy ;  they  refuse  the 
cup  to  the  laity ;  they  bow  to  the  graven  image.  Of  the  duty 
of  persecution  for  opinion's  sake,  they  speak  as  openly  as  in 
the  days  of  Loyola ;  and  they  modestly  suggest,  with  theii*  his- 
torian, Pallavicino,  that  had  the  doctrine  been  more  vigorously 
applied  to  Luther  and  Calvin,  as  well  as  to  Jerome  and  Huss, 
the  mediaeval  Church  would  yet  have  reigned  triumphant  in 
every  land.(*)  They  still  assert  the  supreme  authority  of  the 
Holy  See,  the  boundless  infallibility  of  the  Pope.  But,  in  re- 
ply to  their  extravagant  assumptions,  the  surging  waves  of 
Reformation  have  swept  over  Europe,  and  at  length  the  de- 
crees of  the  Council  of  Trent  are  only  received,  in  their  full 
enormity,  within  the  walls  of  the  city  of  Rome.  There  imtil 
1870  a  shadow  of  the  Inquisition  was  still  maintained ;  there 
the  press  and  the  school  were  jealously  watched  ;  there  no  he- 
retical assembly  was  permitted ;  there  monks  and  monasteries 
abounded ;  there  the  true  Roman  and  patriot  was  shot  down 
with  the  Chassepot  rifle ;  and  the  Supreme  Pontiff,  enthroned 
over  an  enraged  and  rebellious  people,  there  summoned  his 
priestly  legions  to  a  final  council  of  the  Papal  Church. 

We  have  thus  imperfectly  reviewed  the  story  of  the  various 
councils.     We  might  scarcely  admit,  with  the  saintly  Gregory 


Q)  Pallavicino,  i.,  p.  79,  describes  the  opponents  of  the  Roman  Chnrch  as 
"  picciol  gregge  (I'uoniini  rustic!  e  idiotici  die  eran  reliquie  o  degli  antichi 
Waklesi,"  etc.  He  could  not  conceive  of  a  Christian  unless  great  and  pow- 
erful. 


THE  FIRST  COUNCIL.  197 

Nazianzeu,  tliat  no  good  result  can  ever  flow  from  an  assem- 
bly of  bishops.  Xiesea  taught  a  lesson  of  comparative  moder- 
ation. The  genius  and  the  honesty  of  the  two  Gregories  re- 
lieved the  dullness  of  the  synod  of  Constantinople.  Ephesus 
has  become  notorious  for  the  vigorous  orthodoxy  of  Cyril. 
Chalcedon  was  moderate  and  independent.  Yet  it  is  worthy 
of  notice  that  the  purest  as  well  as  the  wisest  of  the  sacred 
synods  was-  the  first ;  that  its  members,  chastened  in  poverty 
and  persecution,  still  retained  something  of  the  apostolic  dig- 
nity and  grace ;  and  that  the  Christian  world,  still  free  and 
self-respecting,  had  not  yet  been  forced  to  look  with  disap- 
pointment and  shame  upon  the  ambition  and  the  vain  preten- 
sions of  its  spiritual  chiefs. 


THE  YATJDOIS. 

Three  valleys  of  singular  interest  open  from  the  higher 
Alps  into  the  rich  plains  of  Piedmont  below.  Through  each 
a  rapid  stream  or  mountain  torrent,  fed  by  perj3etual  snows 
and  glaciers,  rushes  with  a  varying  current,  and  mingles  at 
length  with  the  stately  Po.(')  Two  of  the  vales,  Lucerna  and 
Perouse,  widen  as  they  descend  from  the  crags  above,  and 
melt  into  the  general  softness  of  the  Italian  scene.  Lucerna, 
the  most  fertile,  tlie  most  beautiful,  possesses  imrivaled  charms. 
Its  thick  and  almost  perpetual  foliage,  its  groves  of  mulberry- 
trees,  its  woods  of  chestnut,  the  waving  fields  of  wheat,  its 
vineyards  climbing  up  the  mountain-side,  its  temperate  air,  its 
countless  hamlets,  its  innocent  and  happy  people,  seem  to  rest 
in  perfect  peace  beneath  the  shelter  of  the  encircling  Alps. 
It  would  indeed  be  a  paradise,  exclaimed  the  historian  Leger, 
if  it  were  not  so  near  the  Jesuits  at  Turin. (')  San  Martino, 
the  third  valley,  is  happily  less  beautifiil.Q  It  is  a  wild  ra- 
vine pierced  by  a  fierce  mountain  torrent — the  Germanasca. 
On  each  side  of  the  stream  the  huge  Alps  shoot  upward,  and 
ranges  of  inaccessible  cliffs  and  crags  frown  over  the  naiTow 
vale  beneath.  Its  climate  is  severe,  its  people  hardy.  In  the 
upper  part  of  the  valley  winter  is  almost  perpetual.  The 
snow  lies  for  eight  or  nine  months  on  the  ground.  The  crops 
are  scanty,  the  herbage  faint  and  rare.  The  shrill  cry  of  the 
marmot,  the  shriek  of  the  eagle,  alone  disturb  the  silence  of 
the  Vaudois  Sabbath ;  and  in  the  clear,  bright  air  the  graceful 

(')  Leger,  L'Histoire  Gdn^rale  des  figlises  Vaudoises,  p.  2.  Vandois  and 
Waldenses  are  "tvords  of  the  same  nieaniug.  They  are  defiued,  "  the  peo- 
ple of  the  valleys." 

(^)  Leger,  p.  3.  See  Muston,  Histoire  des  Vaudois ;  or  Israel  of  the  Alps, 
i.,  p.  7. 

(')  Leger,  p.  7 ;  Muston,  p.  19,  Israel  of  the  Alps. 


SAN  MARTINO.  199 

cliamois  is  seen  leaping  from  peak  to  peak  of  his  mountain 
pastures. 

San  Martino  has  formed  for  ages  the  citadel  of  the  Vaudois, 
the  last  refuge  of  religious  freedom.  Often,  when  the  papal 
troops  had  swept  over  its  sister  valleys,  filling  their  fairer 
scenery  with  bloodshed  and  desolation,  the  brave  people  of  the 
interior  vale  defied  the  invaders.  The  persecutors  turned  in 
alarm  from  the  narrow  pass  where  every  crag  concealed  a 
marksman  ;  where  huge  stones  were  rolled  upon  their  heads 
from  the  heights  above ;  where  every  cave  and  rock  upon  the 
mountain  -  side  was  tenanted  by  a  fearless  garrison.  Here, 
within  the  borders  of  Italy  itself,  the  popes  have  never  been 
able,  except  for  one  unhappy  interval,  to  enforce  their  author- 
ity. Here  no  mass  has  been  said,  no  images  adored,  no  papal 
rites  administered  by  the  native  Vaudois.  It  was  here  that 
Henry  Arnaud,  the  hero  of  the  valleys,  redeemed  his  country 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  Jesuits  and  Rome ;  and  liere  a  Chris- 
tain  Church,  founded  perhaps  in  the  apostolic  age,  has  sur- 
vived the  persecutions  of  a  thousand  years.(') 

The  territory  of  the  Vaudois  embraces  scarcely  sixteen 
square  miles.  The  three  valleys  can  never  have  contained  a 
population  of  more  than  twenty  thousand.  In  every  age  the 
manners  of  the  people  have  been  the  same.  They  are  tall, 
graceful,  vigorous  ;  a  mountain  race  accustomed  to  labor  or  to 
hunt  the  chamois  in  his  native  crags.  The  women  are  fair 
and  spotless ;  their  rude  but  plaintive  hymns  are  often  heard 
resounding  from  the  chestnut  groves  ;  their  native  refinement 
softens  the  apparent  harshness  of  their  frugal  lives.(')  Over 
the  whole  population  of  the  Vaudois  valleys  has  ever  rested 
the  charm  of  a  spotless  purity.  Their  fair  and  tranquil  coun- 
tenances speak  only  frankness  and  simplicity ;  their  lives  are 
passed  in  deeds  of  charity,  in  honest  labors,  and  in  unvarying 
self-respeet.(')     The  vices  and  the  follies,  the  luxury  and  the 

(')  Muston,  i.,  p.  107.  The  Israel  of  the  Alps  is  the  most  complete  ac- 
count of  the  Vaudois,    A  work  of  great  learuiug,  research,  and  enthusiasm. 

C')  Muston,  i.,p.  7. 

(')  The  moral  vigor  of  the  Vaudois  is  well  attested  for  four  or  five  cent- 
uries.    See  J.  Bresse,  Hist.  Vaudois,  p.  85,  an  unfinished  history.     So  Au- 


200  THE   FAUDOIS. 

crime,  that  have  swept  over  Europe  never  invaded  tlie  liappy 
valleys,  unless  carried  tliither  by  the  papal  troops.  No  pride, 
no  avarice,  no  fierce  resentment,  disturbs  the  peaceful  Vaudois ; 
no  profanity,  no  crime,  is  heard  of  in  this  singular  community. 
To  wait  upon  the  sick,  to  aid  the  stranger,  are  eagerly  con- 
tended for  as  a  privilege ;  compassion,  even  for  their  enemies, 
is  the  crowning  excellence  of  the  generous  race.  When  their 
persecutor,  Victor  Amadeus  II.,  was  driven  from  Turin  by  the 
French,  he  took  refuge  in  the  valleys  he  had  desolated,  in  the 
cottage  of  a  Vaudois  peasant.  Here  he  lived  in  perfect  secu- 
rity. The  peasant  might  have  filled  his  house  with  gold  by 
betraying  his  guest ;  he  refused ;  the  duke  escaped,  and  re- 
warded his  preserver  with  characteristic  parsimony.  In  the 
French  wars  of  the  last  centurv,  when  Suwarrow  was  victorious 
among  the  Alps,  three  hundred  wounded  Frenchmen  took 
shelter  in  the  ^^llao;e  of  Bobbio.  The  Vaudois  cared  for  their 
former  persecutors  as  long  as  their  scanty  means  allowed,  and 
then,  taking  the  wounded  soldiers  on  their  shoulders,  carried 
them  over  the  steep  Alpine  passes  and  brought  them  safely 
to  their  native  France. 

"We  may  accept,  for  we  can  not  refute,  the  narrative  of  their 
early  history  given  by  the  Vaudois  themselves.(')  Soon  after 
the  dawn  of  Christianity,  they  assert,  their  ancestors  embraced 
the  faith  of  St.  Paul,  and  practiced  the  simple  rites  and  usages 
described  by  Justin  or  Tertullian.  The  Scriptures  became 
their  only  guide ;  the  same  belief,  the  same  sacraments  they 
maintain  to-day  they  held  in  the  age  of  Constantine  and  Syl- 
vester. They  relate  that,  as  the  Romish  Church  grew  in  pow- 
er and  pride,  their  ancestors  repelled  its  assumptions  and  re- 
fused to  submit  to  its  authority  ;  that  when,  in  the  ninth  cent- 
ury, the  use  of  images  was  enforced  by  superstitious  popes, 
they,  at  least,  never  consented  to  become  idolaters ;  that  they 
never  worshiped  the  Virgin,  nor  bowed  at  an  idolatrous  mass. 


thentic  Details  of  tlie  Waldenses,  p.  48.     Mustou,  Hist.  Vaud.,  i. ;  aud  see 
Israel  of  the  Alps. 

(')  The  Vaudois  veriters  concur  in  placing  their  own  origin  at  a  period 
before  Constantine.     Leger,  i,,  p.  25  ct  seq. 


THE  BABBES.  201 

When,  in  the  eleventh  century,  Rome  asserted  its  suprema- 
cy over  kings  and  princes,  the  Vaudois  were  its  bitterest  foes. 
The  three  valleys  formed  the  theological  school  of  Europe. 
The  Yaudois  missionaries  traveled  into  Hungary  and  Bohe- 
mia, France,  England,  even  Scotland,  and  aroused  the  people 
to  a  sense  of  the  fearful  corruption  of  the  Church.(')  They 
pointed  to  Rome  as  the  Antichrist,  the  centre  of  every  abomi- 
nation. They  taught,  in  the  place  of  the  Romish  innovations, 
the  pure  faith  of  the  apostolic  age.  Lollard,  who  led  the  way 
to  the  reforms  of  Wycliffe,  was  a  preacher  from  the  valleys ; 
the  Albigenses  of  Provence,  in  the  twelfth  century,  were  the 
fruits  of  the  Vaudois  missions ;  Germany  and  Bohemia  were 
reformed  by  the  teachers  of  Piedmont ;  Huss  and  Jerome  did 
little  more  than  proclaim  the  Yaudois  faith ;  and  Luther  and 
Calvin  were  only  the  necessary  offspring  of  the  apostolic 
churches  of  the  Alps. 

The  early  pastors  of  the  Yaudois  were  called  harbes  ;(^) 
and  in  a  deep  recess  among  the  mountains,  hidden  from  the 
persecutor's  ej^e,  a  cave  is  shown  where  in  the  Middle  Ages  a 
throng  of  scholars  came  from  different  parts  of  Europe  to 
study  the  literature  of  the  valleys.(')  The  barbes  were  well 
qualified  to  teach  a  purer  faith  than  that  of  Rome :  a  Yaudois 
poem,  writen  about  1100,  called  the  "  Noble  Lesson,"  still  ex- 
ists, and  inculcates  a  pure  morality  and  an  apostolic  creed  ;(^)  a 
catechism  of  the  twelfth  century  has  also  been  preserved ;  its 
doctrines  are  those  of  modern  Protestantism.  The  Yaudois 
Church  had  no  bishop  ;(^)  its  head  was  an  elder,  majorales^  who 
was  only  a  presiding  officer  over  the  younger  barbes.  But 
in  that  idyllic  church  no  ambition  and  no  strife  arose,  and 

(')  Peyran,  Nouvelles  Lettres  surles  Vaudois, Lett,  ii.,  p.  26 :  "  La  religion 
des  Vaudois  s'est  etendue  presque  dans  tous  les  endioits  de  I'Europe  ;  uou 
eeulemeut  parmi  les  Italiens." 

(^)  Barbe  means  uncle.  Leger,  p.  205 :  "C'estoit  I'appeller  onclc" — a 
name  always  honorable  in  the  South  of  J^'rance. 

O  Bresse,  Hist.  Vaudois. 

{*)  Raynouard,  Mon.  Langue  Eomane,  ii.,  p.  37. 

(*)  Authentic  Details,  etc. :  "  Four  of  the  best-informed  pastors  agreed 
that  they  never  had  any  bishops  at  any  time." 


202  THE    VAUDOIS. 

each  pastor  strove  only  to  excel  his  fellows  in  hnmility  and  in 
cliaritable  deeds. 

From   Constantine  to  Ilildebrand,  from  the  third  to  the 
eleventh  century,  the  Vaudois,  we  may  trust,  cultivated  their 
valleys  in  peace.  (')     The  Koman  Church,  engaged  in  its  strife 
witli  emperors  and  kmgs,  overlooked  or  despised  the  teachers 
of  the  mountains.     In  the  contest  of  giants,  the  modest  shep- 
herds were  forgotten.     Yet  they  aimed  with  almost  fatal  ef- 
fect the  rustic  sling  of  truth  against  the  Roman  Philistine. 
Nothing  is  more  plain  than  that  from  the  twelfth  to  the  fif- 
teenth century  the  people  of  Europe  were  nearly  united  in 
opposition  to  the  Roman  See.    The  Popes  liad  never  yet  been 
able  to  reduce  to  subjection  the  larger  portion  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church;  it  was  only  over  kings  and  princes  that  their 
victories  had  been  achieved.    Every  country  in  Europe  swarm- 
ed with  dissidents,  who  repelled  as  Antichrist  the  Bishop  of 
Rome ;  who  pointed  with  horror  and  disgust  to  the  vices  and 
the  crimes  of  the  Italian  prelates  and  the  encroaching  monks. 
In  Languedoc  and  Provence,  the  home  of  the  troubadour  and 
of  mediaeval  civilization,  the  Roman  priests  were  pursued  to 
the  altars  with  shouts  of  derision.(')     Bohemia,  Hungary,  and 
Germany  wxre  filled  with  various  sects  of  primitive  Chris^ 
tians,  who  had  never  learned  to  worship  graven  images,  or  to 
bow  before  glittering  Madonnas.     Spain,  England,  Scotland, 
are  said  by  the  Vaudois  traditions  to  have  retained  an  early 
Christianity.      In  the  fourteenth   century  it  is  certain  that 
nearly  half  England  accepted  the  faith  of  Lollard  and  Wyc- 
Me.     The  Romish  writers  of  tlie  thirteenth  century  abound 
in  treatises  against  heretics ;(')  the  fable  of  a  united  Christen- 
dom, obeying  with  devoted  faith  a  Pope  at  Rome,  had  no  cre- 
dence in  the  period  to  which  it  is  commonly  assigned ;  and 
from  the  reiurn  of  Innocent  III.  to  the  Council  of  Constance 
(1200-1414)  the  Roman  Church  was  engaged  in  a  constant 

(')  The  feeble  condition  of  the  papacy  from  800  to  1000  left  it  with  but 
little  influence  in  the  West.     Spain  and  France  were  quite  independent. 

Q)  Milman,  Latin  Christianity,  iv.,  p.  260. 

(')  Reinerius,  Moneta,  Mapes  (1150),  and  others.  So  many  papal  bulls, 
sermons,  etc. 


THE  POPES  AND    TEE   VAUDOIS.  203 

and  often  doubtful  contest  with  the  widely  diffused  fragments 
of  apostolic  Christianity.C) 

The  Popes  had  succeeded  in  subjecting  kings  and  emperors ; 
they  now  employed  them  in  crushing  the  people.  Innocent 
III.  excited  Philip  of  France  to  a  fierce  Crusade  against  the 
Albigenses  of  the  South ;  amidst  a  general  massacre  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  the  gentle  sect  sunk,  never  to  appear 
again.  Dominic  invented,  or  enlarged,  the  Inquisition ;  and 
soon  in  every  land  the  spectacle  of  blazing  heretics  and  tort- 
ured saints  delighted  the  eyes  of  the  Komish  clergy.Q  Over 
the  rebellious  kings  the  popes  had  held  the  menace  of  inter- 
dict, excommunication,  deposition ;  to  the  people  they  offered 
only  submission  or  death.  The  Inquisition  was  their  remedy 
for  the  apostolic  heresies  of  Germany,  England,  Spain — a  sim- 
ple cure  for  dissent  or  reform.  It  seemed  effectual. Q  The 
Albigenses  were  perfectly  extirpated.  In  the  cities  of  Italy 
the  Waldenses  ceased  to  l)e  known.  Lollardism  concealed  it- 
self in  England ;  the  Scriptural  Christians  of  every  land  who 
refused  to  worship  images  or  adore  the  Virgin  disappeared 
from  sight ;  the  supremacy  of  Pome  was  assured  over  all 
Western  Europe. 

Yet  one  blot  remained  on  the  fair  fame  of  the  seemingly 
united  Christendom.  Within  the  limits  of  Italy  itself  a  peo- 
ple existed  to  whom  the  mass  was  still  a  vain  idolatry,  the  real 
presence  a  papal  fable ;  who  had  resisted  with  vigor  every  in- 
novation, and  whose  simple  rites  and  ancient  faith  were  older 
than  the  papacy  itself.  What  waves  of  persecution  may  have 
surged  over  the  Vaudois  valleys  in  earlier  ages  we  do  not 
know ;  they  seem  soon  to  have  become  familiar  with  the  cru- 
elty of  Pome ;  but  in  the  fifteenth  century  the  Popes  and  the 
Inquisitors  turned  their  malignant  eyes  upon  the  simple  Pied- 
montese,  and  prepared  to  exterminate  with  fire  and  sword  the 
Alpine  Church. 

(*)  Mosheim,  ii.,  enumerates  some  of  the  various  sects. 

C)  Milman,  Lat.  Christ.,  iv.,  p.  266. 

(')  Janus,  Pope  and  Council,  cap.  xvi.,  has  a  brief  and  careful  review  of 
the  rigor  of  the  Inquisition  from  1200  to  1500;  the  popes  named  all  the  In- 
quisitors.    See  p.  194-196. 


204  THE   VAUDOIS. 

And  now  began  a  war  of  four  centuries,  the  most  remarka- 
ble in  the  annals  of  Europe.  On  the  one  side  stood  the  peo- 
ple of  the  valleys — poor,  humble,  few.  Driven  to  resistance 
by  their  pitiless  foes,  they  took  up  arms  with  reluctance ;  they 
fought  only  for  safety ;  they  wept  over  the  fallen.Q  Yet  it 
soon  appeared  that  every  one  of  the  simple  mountaineers  was 
a  hero ;  that  he  could  meet  toil,  famine,  danger,  death,  with  a 
serene  breast  in  defense  of  his  loved  ones  and  his  faith ;  that 
his  vigorous  arm,  his  well-ordered  frame,  were  more  than  a 
match  for  the  mercenary  Catholic,  the  dissolute  Savoyard; 
that  he  joined  to  the  courage  of  the  soldier  the  Christian  ardor 
of  the  martyr ;  that  he  was,  in  fact,  invincible.  For  four  cent- 
uries a  Crusade  almost  incessant  went  on  against  the  secluded 
valle_ys.  Often  the  papal  legions,  led  by  the  Inquisitors,  swept 
over  the  gentle  landscape  of  Lucerna,  and  drove  the  people 
from  the  blazing  villages  to  hide  in  caves  on  the  mountains, 
and  almost  browse  with  the  chamois  on  the  wild  herbage  of 
the  wintry  rocks.  Often  the  dukes  of  Savoy  sent  well-train- 
ed armies  of  Spanish  foot  to  blast  and  wither  the  last  trace  of 
Christian  civilization  in  San  Martin  or  Perouse.  More  than 
once  the  best  soldiers  and  the  best  generals  of  Mazarin  and 
Louis  XIY.  hunted  the  Vaudois  in  their  wildest  retreats,  mas- 
sacred them  in  caves,  starved  them  in  the  regions  of  the  gla- 
ciers, and  desolated  the  valleys  from  San  Jean  to  the  slopes  of 
Guinevert.  Yet  the  unflinching  people  still  refused  to  give 
up  their  faith.  Still  they  repelled  the  idolatry  of  the  mass; 
still  they  mocked  at  the  Antichrist  of  Rome.  In  the  deepest 
hour  of  distress,  the  venerable  barbes  gathered  around  them 
their  famine-stricken  congregations  in  some  cave  or  cranny  of 
the  Alps,  administered  their  apostolic  rites,  and  preached  anew 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  The  Psalms  of  David,  chanted  in 
the  plaintive  melodies  of  the  Yaudois,  echoed  far  above  the 
scenes  of  rapine  and  carnage  of  the  desolate  valleys ;  the  apos- 
tolic Church  lived  indestructible,  the  coronal  of  some  heaven- 
piercing  Alp. 

(')  Gilly,  Excursion,  has  various  legends  of  tbe  early  ^^•ars.  Pcrrin  and 
Leger  are  the  authorities. 


THE  ALPINE   CHURCH.  205 

The  Popes,  the  leaders  of  the  Inquisition,  the  dukes  of 
Savoy,  bigoted  and  cruel,  often  condescended  to  flatteries  and 
caresses  to  win  those  they  could  not  conquer.  They  ofi:ered 
large  bribes  to  the  poorest  mountaineer  who  would  consent 
to  abandon  the  Church  of  his  fathers  and  betray  the  haunts 
of  the  heretic.  Wealth,  honors,  the  favor  of  his  king  and  of 
the  Romish  priests,  awaited  him  who  would  recant ;  an  easy 
path  of  preferment  lay  open  to  the  young  men  of  the  valleys, 
accustomed  only  to  toil  and  want ;  they  were  tempted  as  few 
other  men  have  ever  been.  Yet  the  papal  bribes  were  even 
less  successful  than  the  papal  arms.  A  few  imbeciles  who 
had  lost  their  moral  purity  alone  yielded  to  the  allurements 
of  gain  and  pleasure ;  the  great  body  of  the  Yaudois  youth 
rejected  the  offers  with  disdain.  The  stately  magnanimity  of 
the  "  Noble  Lesson,"  the  simple  principles  of  their  ancient  cat- 
echism,(')  taught  them  in  their  plain  churches  by  some  learned 
yet  gentle  barbe,  raised  them  above  those  inferior  impulses 
by  which  the  corrupt  world  beneath  them  was  controlled. 
Kg  hereditary  vices  tarnished  their  fair  organizations ;  no 
coarse  disease  impaired  their  mental  and  moral  vigor.  With 
a  wisdom  above  philosophy,  they  saw  that  it  was  better  to  live 
with  a  calm  conscience  a  frugal  life  than  to  revel  in  ill-gotten 
gold.  They  clung  to  their  mountains,  their  moral  purity,  and 
their  faith.  Generation  after  generation,  fiercely  tried,  hard- 
ly tempted,  never  wavered  in  their  resolve.  The  war  of  four 
centuries  for  liberty  of  conscience,  for  freedom  to  worship 
God,  was  accepted  by  the  youthful  Yaudois  as  their  noblest 
inheritance.  The  contest  went  on  with  varying  success  but 
equal  vigor,  and  ceased  only  in  its  final  consequences  when  the 
triumphant  voice  of  Garibaldi  proclaimed  Italy  forever  free. 

Pope  Innocent  YIII.,  a  man  of  rare  benevolence,  according 
to  the  Romisli  writers,  and  a  devoted  lover  of  Christian  union, 
resolved  (1487)  to  adorn  his  reign  by  a  complete  extinction  of 
the  Yaudois  heresy.  He  issued  a  bull  summoning  all  faithful 
kings,  princes,  rulers,  to  a  crusade  against  the  children  of  the 

Q)  Faber,  Hist.,  etc.,  of  tbe  Ancient  Waldeuses,  London,  1838,  may  be 
consulted,  witb  some  caution.  It  gives  a  clear  review  of  the  authorities 
for  their  auti fruity. 


206  THE   VAUDOIS. 

vallejs.(*)  No  heretic  was  to  be  spared ;  his  goods,  his  life, 
were  declared  forfeited  xmless  he  would  consent  to  attend 
mass.  The  Pope,  or  his  Inquisitor,  enumerated  in  a  pastoral 
letter  the  crinies  of  the  Vaudois.  He  chai-ged  them  with  call- 
ing the  Eoman  Church  a  church  of  the  evil  one;Q  of  de- 
nouncing the  worship  of  the  Virgin,  the  invocation  of  saints ; 
of  asserting,  with  unblushing  boldness,  that  they  alone  pos- 
sessed the  pure  doctrine  of  the  apostles.  To  Albertus  Capi- 
taneus  was  committed  the  sacred  trust  of  leading  an  army 
into  the  guilty  region,  and  executing  upon  its  people  the  sen- 
tence of  Eome.  The  Catholics  gathered  together  in  great 
numbers  at  the  appeal  of  the  Chief  Inquisitor ;  a  tumultuous 
throng  of  soldiers,  brigands,  priests,  entered  the  valleys  and 
commenced  a  general  pihage.  But  they  were  soon  disturbed 
in  their  labors  by  the  swift  attacks  of  the  Yaudois.  The  res- 
olute and  fearless  mountaineers  sallied  from  their  caves  and 
ravines  and  drove  the  robbers  before  them.  One  Christian, 
armed  only  with  the  vigor  of  innocence,  seemed  equal  to  a 
hundred  papists.  The  crusaders  fled,  beaten  and  affrighted, 
from  the  valleys;  the  malevolent  design  of  Innocent  was  never 
f ullilled ;  and  the  Romanists  asserted  and  believed  that  every 
Yaudois  was  a  magician,  and  was  guarded  by  an  invisible  spell. 
Yet  still  the  perpetual  persecution  went  on.  The  j^apal 
agents  made  their  way  into  the  lower  portions  of  the  valleys, 
seized  the  eminent  barbes  and  faithful  teachers,  and  burned 
them  with  cruel  joy.  The  Yaudois  never  knew  any  respite 
from  real  and  imminent  danger.  Ever  they  must  be  ready 
to  fly  to  their  mountains  and  caves;  ever  their  trembling 
Avives  and  children  were  exposed  to  the  cruelty  and  cunning 
of  the  envious  priests.Q      The  sixteenth   century   opened. 

(')  See  the  bull  issued  by  Innocent  (Leger,  part  ii.,  p.  8).  He  calls  upon 
"(luces,  principes,  comites,  et  temporales  dominos  civitatuni,  ut  clypeum 
defensiouis  orthodoxie  fidei  assumant." 

(•)  The  charges  made  hy  the  Inquisitors  were,  "  Qu'ils  appelloient 
I'^glise  Komaiue  I'egliso  des  lualius,"  etc. 

(^)  Leger,  ii.  29.  The  monks  crowded  into  the  valleys.  In  1536,  there 
was  a  severe  persecution.  In  1537,  a  baibe  of  great  eminence  was  burned. 
The  valleys  were  frequently  plundered. 


THE  JESUITS  IN  THE  VALLEYS.  207 

The  Reformation  came,  and  the  chief  reformers  of  France 
and  Germany  entered  into  a  friendly  correspondence  with  the 
barbes  and  churches  of  Piedmont.  They  admitted  the  pu- 
rity of  their  faith,  the  antiquity  of  their  rites.  But  the  rise 
of  the  Reformation  served  only  to  deepen  the  rage  of  the 
papists  against  the  children  of  the  valleys.  The  darkest  days 
of  the  Vaudois  drew  near,  when  their  enemies  could  for  a  mo- 
ment boast  that  the  last  refuge  of  Italian  heresy  had  fallen 
before  their  arms. 

In  1540,  the  society  of  Loyola  began  its  universal  war 
against  advancing  civilization.  The  Inquisition  was  renewed 
with  unparalleled  severity ;  the  cities  of  Italy  were  hushed 
into  a  dreadful  repose ;  the  Protestants  of  Yenice  were  thrown 
into  the  Adriatic ;  the  reformers  of  Rome  died  before  the 
Church  of  Santa  Maria.(')  Italy  was  reduced  to  a  perfect 
obedience  to  the  papal  rule,  and  for  the  first  time  in  the  his- 
tory of  its  career  of  innovations  the  Roman  Church  was  pow- 
erful and  united  at  home.  The  iron  energy  of  the  Jesuits 
had  crushed  dissent.  They  next  proceeded  to  declare  and  de- 
cide the  doctrine  of  the  usurping  Church.  The  Council  of 
Trent  assembled  (1545),  and  Loyola  and  Lainez  slowly  en- 
forced upon  the  hesitating  fathers  a  rigid  rule  of  priestly 
despotism.f)  Liberty  of  conscience  was  denounced  as  the 
chief  of  heresies ;  the  opinions  and  the  manners  of  mankind 
were  to  be  decided  at  Rome ;  the  Pope  was  to  be  obeyed  be- 
fore all  earthly  sovereigns,  and  his  divine  powers  were  ev- 
erywhere to  be  established  by  a  universal  persecution.  The 
Council  of  Trent  at  once  threw  all  Europe  into  a  fearful  com- 
motion. At  the  command  of  the  Pope,  the  Jesuits,  and  the 
fathers  of  Trent,  Charles  Y.  began  the  first  great  religious 
war  in  Germany,  and  carried  desolation  and  death  to  its  fair- 
est borders.  In  France  the  French  court  drove  the  Husnenots 
to  revolt  by  an  insane  tyranny.  In  Holland  the  rage  of  the 
Inquisitors  had  been  stimulated  by  the  lessons  of  Loyola. 

(')  Kanke,  Hist.  Popes,  Inquisition. 

O  See  Janus,  Pope  and  Council.  The  Jesnits  silenced  even  the  Ro- 
manists, p.  290. 


208  THE   VAUDOIS. 

Of  all  its  opponents  Rome  most  hated  the  Vandois.  To 
bind  one  of  the  primitive  Christians  to  the  stake  seemed  to 
give  strange  satisfaction  to  their  modern  persecutors.  In 
September,  1560,  Pope  Pius  IV.  and  his  holj  college  gather- 
ed at  Rome  to  witness  one  of  their  favorite  spectacles.(')  A 
pile  had  been  raised  in  the  Square  of  St.  Angelo,  near  the 
bridge  over  the  Tiber.  The  people  assembled  in  a  great 
throng.  The  condemned,  a  pale  and  feeble  young  man,  was 
led  forth ;  when  suddenly  he  began  to  speak  with  such  rare 
eloquence  and  force  that  the  people  listened ;  the  Pope  grew 
angry  and  troubled,  and  the  Inquisitors  ordered  the  Vaudois 
to  be  strangled  lest  his  voice  might  be  heard  above  the  flames. 
Pius  lY.  then  saw  the  martyrdom  in  peace,  and  directed  the 
ashes  of  his  foe  to  be  thrown  into  the  Tiber. 

The  martyr  was  John  Louis  Paschal,  a  young  pastor  of 
great  eloquence,  who  had  been  called  from  Geneva  to  a  con- 
gregation of  Vaudois  in  Calabria.  The  post  of  danger  had  a 
singular  charm  for  the  brilliant  preacher.  He  was  betrothed 
to  a  young  girl  of  Geneva.  When  he  told  her  of  his  call  to 
Calabria,  "Alas !"  she  cried,  with  tears, "  so  near  to  Rome,  and 
so  far  from  me !"  Yet  she  did  not  oppose  his  generous  re- 
solve, and  he  went  to  his  dangerous  station.  Here  his  elo- 
quence soon  drew  a  wide  attention.  He  courted  by  his  bold- 
ness the  crown  of  martyrdom.  He  was  shut  up  in  a  deep 
dungeon,  was  chained  with  a  gang  of  galley-slaves,  was  brought 
to  Rome,  where  Paul  had  siiffered,  and  was  imprisoned  in  a 
long  conflnement.(°)  His  persecutors  strove  to  induce  him  to 
recant ;  but  no  bribes  nor  terrors  could  move  him.  He  wrote 
a  last  fond  exhortation  to  Camilla  Guarina,  his  betrothed ;  his 
eloquence  was  heard  for  the  last  time  as  he  was  strangled  be- 
fore the  stake.(^) 

Innumerable  martyrdoms  now  filled  the  valleys  with  per- 
petual horror.     It  is  impossible  to  describe,  it  is  almost  in- 

(')  The  story  of  Paschal  may  bo  foniul  at  length  in  Mnston,  i.,  p.  85  ;  Gil- 
lies, p.  178,  etc. 

(-)  Miiston,  i.,  p.  82.  He  eutered  Rome  by  the  Ostiau  gate,  by  the  path 
of  the  ancieut  martyrs. 

C)  The  Vaiulois  in  Calabria  were  extirpated  by  a  horrible  persecution. 


PAPAL   PEPiSECUTOES.  209 

human  to  remember,  the  atrocities  of  the  papal  persecutors. 
Neitlier  sex  nor  age,  innocence,  beauty,  youth,  softened  their 
impassive  hearts.  Mary  Komaine  was  burned  ahve  at  Koche- 
Plate ;  Madeleine  Fontane  at  St.  John.  Michel  Gonet,  a  man 
nearly  a  hundred  years  old,  was  burned  to  death  at  Sarcena. 
One  martyr  was  hacked  to  pieces  with  sabres,  and  his  wounds 
filled  with  quicklime ;  anotlier  died  covered  with  brimstone 
matches,  that  had  been  fastened  to  his  lips,  nostrils,  and  every 
other  part  of  his  body ;  the  mouth  of  another  was  filled  with 
gunpowder,  the  explosion  tearing  his  head  to  pieces.  Tho 
story  of  a  poor  Bible-seller  from  Geneva  is  less  revolting  than 
most  of  these  dreadful  scenes.(')  Bartholomew  Hector  wan- 
dered among  the  peaks  of  the  highest  Alps  selling  the  printed 
Scriptures  to  the  poor  shepherds,  who  in  the  brief  summer, 
when  the  mountains  break  forth  into  a  rich  growth  of  leaves, 
grass,  and  flowers,  lead  their  flocks  to  the  higher  cliffs.  They 
bought  the  Bibles  readily,  and  the  colporteur  climbed  cheer- 
fully from  peak  to  peak.  The  police  seized  him  and  carried 
him  to  Pignerol.  He  was  charged  with  having  sold  heretical 
books  ;  he  insisted  that  the  Bible  could  not  be  called  heretical ; 
but  the  Holy  Ofiice  condemned  him,  June  19th,  1556,  and  he 
was  sentenced  to  be  burned  alive  ;  some  alleviation  of  the  pen- 
alty was  afterward  made,  and  the  judges  permitted  the  exe- 
cutioner to  strangle  him  before  the  burning.  He  was  offered 
his  life  and  liberty  if  he  would  recant ;  he  replied  by  preach- 
ing in  his  prison,  with  wonderful  eloquence,  the  pure  doctrines 
of  the  book  he  had  loved  to  distribute.  Amidst  tlie  brilliant 
palaces  of  Turin,  in  the  public  square,  the  happy  martyr  died, 
surrounded  by  a  throng  of  people  who  wept  over  his  fate. 
The  priests  were  unable  to  suppress  that  proof  of  a  lingering 
humanity.  Five  Protestants  from  Geneva  were  traveling  to- 
ward the  Yaudois  valleys.  They  were  warned  that  the  police 
were  watching  for  them,  j-et  they  still  pressed  on,  and  Mere 
arrested  in  an  unfrequented  road  where  they  had  hoped  to  es- 
cape pursuit.  Two  of  them,  Vernoux  and  Laborie,  were  pas- 
tors of  the  vallej's.     They  were  all  taken  before  the  Inquisi- 

(')  Miistoiiji.,  p.  108. 

14 


210  THE    VAUDOIS. 

tors  at  Chambeiy,  and  convicted  as  heretics.  They  wei'e  next 
brought  before  the  civil  court  to  be  condemned.  The  judges, 
touched  by  their  innocence,  strove  to  prevail  upon  them  to  re- 
cant. "  You  need  only  give  us  a  simple  confession  of  your 
errors,"  said  the  court ;  "  and  this  will  not  prevent  you  from 
resuming  your  faith  in  the  future."  They  refused  to  consent 
to  the  deceit,  and  were  sentenced  to  die.  "Anne,  my  beloved 
sister  and  spouse,"(')  wrote  Laborie  to  his  young  wife,  "  you 
know  how  well  we  have  loved  one  another.  I  pray  you, 
therefore,  that  you  be  always  found  such  as  you  have  been, 
and  better,  if  possible,  when  I  am  no  more."  Calvin,  hearing 
of  their  danger,  wrote  them  an  austere  exhortation.  In  the 
stern  spirit  of  that  age  of  trial,  he  urged  them  to  bear  a  testi- 
mony to  the  faith  that  should  resound  afar,  where  human 
voices  had  never  reached.  The  five  died  full  of  hope.  They 
were  strangled,  and  their  bodies  burned.(^)  In  this  fatal  pe- 
riod the  public  square  of  Turin  was  constantly  made  the  scene 
of  touching  martj'rdoms  and  holy  trials ;  the  Jesuits  and  the 
Franciscans  everywhere  urged  on  the  zeal  of  the  Inquisitors ; 
no  village  of  the  Vaudois  valleys  but  had  its  martyrs,  no 
rock  nor  crag  but  witnessed  and  was  hallowed  by  some  joy- 
ous  death  ;  the  rage  of  persecution  grew  in  strength  until  it 
could  no  longer  be  satisfied  with  less  than  a  perfect  extermi- 
nation ol  the  Yaudois. 

Thus  around  the  simple  Christians  of  the  valleys  seemed  to 
hang  everywhere  the  omens  of  a  dreadful  doom.  In  the  gen- 
eral tide  of  persecution,  they  could  scarcely  hope  to  escape  a 
final  destruction.  From  the  towei's  and  cathedrals  of  Turin 
the  Jesuits(^)  looked  with  envious  eyes  upon  the  gentle  race 
who  neither  plotted  nor  schemed ;  to  whom  cunning  was  un- 
known, and  deceit  the  ruin  of  the  soul ;  who  never  planned  a 
persecution,  fomented  religious  wars,  or  guided  the  assassin's 
hand ;  who  read  the  Scriptures  daily,  despite  the  anathemas 
of  Rome,  and  who  found  there  no  trace  of  the  papal  suprem- 
acy or  the  legend  of  St.  Peter.(*)     The  Yaudois,  indeed,  had 

(•)  Maston,  i.,  p.  115.  (")  Id.,  i.,  p.  117.  (')  Leger,  p.  2. 

{*)  Peyrau,  Nouv.  Lett.,  p.  61.     The  Waldeuses  always  deuied  that  Peter 
was  ever  at  Rome. 


THE  VAUDOIS  DOOMED.  211 

never  concealed  their  opinions.  For  centuries  they  had  said 
openly  that  the  Pope  was  Antichrist ;(')  they  had  condemned 
each  one  of  the  papal  innovations  as  they  arose ;  they  de- 
nounced the  Crusades  as  cruel  and  unchristian ;  they  gave 
shelter  in  their  valleys  to  the  persecuted  Albigenses ;  they 
smiled  with  gentle  ridicule  at  the  worship  of  saints  and  relics ; 
they  scoffed  at  the  vicious  monks  and  priests  who  strove  to 
convert  them  to  the  faith  of  Rome.  Yet  now  they  consent- 
ed to  claim  the  clemency  of  their  sovereign,  the  Duke  of  Sa- 
voy, and  humbly  begged  for  freedom  of  worship  and  belief.r) 
They  were  so  innocent  that  they  could  not  understand  why 
one  Christian  should  wish  to  rob  or  murder  another. 

But  their  prayers,  their  humility,  and  their  innocence 
brouo;ht  them  no  relief.  The  Council  of  Trent  Avas  about 
to  re-assemble,  and  the  Jesuits  had  resolved  that  its  last  sit- 
tings should  be  graced  by  a  total  destruction  of  the  ancient 
churches  of  the  valleys.^ )  A  new  crusade  was  begun  (150(1) 
against  the  Vaudois.  The  Pope,  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  the 
kings  of  France  and  Spain,  promoted  the  sacred  expedition  ; 
a  large  army,  led  by  the  Count  of  Trinity,  moved  up  the  val- 
leys; again  the  Jesuits  offered  to  the  people  submission  to 
the  mass  or  death ;  again  the  brave  mountaineers  left  their 
blazing  homes,  and  fled  to  the  caves  and  crannies  of  the  up- 
per Alps.  The  Count  of  Trinity  was  everywhere  victorious. 
The  barbes  of  St.  Germain  were  burned  in  their  own  village, 
and  the  poor  women  of  the  parish  were  forced  to  bring  fagots 
on  their  backs  to  build  the  funeral  pile.  The  open  country 
was  desolated ;  the  mass  was  celebrated  with  unusual  fervor 
amidst  the  dreadful  waste ;  and  the  Jesuits  exulted  with  fierce 
joy  over  the  ruin  of  the  apostolic  Church.  But  once  more, 
as  the  winter  deepened,  the  cliffs  grew  icy,  and  huge  ava- 
lanches of  snow  hung  over  the  path  of  the  invaders,  the  Vau- 
dois fortified  every  ravine,(*)  barricaded  the  narrow  passes, 

(')  They  said  "  pape  6toit  I'anticbrist,  I'bostie  une  idole,  et  le  purgatoire 
line  fable." — Leger,  p.  6. 

(=")  Leger,  p.  31 :  If  tbe  Turk  and  the  Jew  are  tolerated,  they  said,  why 
may  not  we  have  peace  ? 

(=)  Leger,  p.  33.  (^) /</.,  p.  34. 


212  THE    VAUDOIS. 

and  from  their  fastnesses  and  caves  made  vigorous  attacks 
upon  the  foe.  The  Count  of  Trinity  found  himself  threat- 
ened on  every  side.  In  the  valley  of  Angrogna  a  few  peas- 
ants held  a  whole  army  in  check.  Fifty  Vaudois,  in  one 
engagement,  nearly  destroyed  a  detachment  of  twelve  hun- 
dred persecutors.  The  Vaudois  leaped  like  chamois  from 
crag  to  crag,  and  with  swift  sallies  cut  off  the  wandering 
brigands ;  they  threw  them  over  the  cliffs,  drowned  them  in 
the  deep  mountain  torrents,  or  rolled  huge  stones  upon  their 
heads.  The  winter  passed  on  full  of  disaster  to  the  crusaders. 
Yet  the  condition  of  the  Vaudois  was  even  less  tolerable. 
The  snow  and  ice  of  the  Alps  blocked  up  the  entrance  to 
their  hiding  -  places ;  men,  women,  and  children  shivered  in 
rude  huts  of  stone  on  the  bleak  mountain  -  side ;  food  was 
scanty  ;  their  harvest  had  been  gathered  by  the  enemy  ;  while 
far  beneath  them  they  saw  their  comfortable  homes  wasted 
by  the  Romish  brigands,  and  their  plain  churches  defiled  by 
the  pagan  ceremonies  of  the  mass. 

In  the  spring,  as  the  flowers  bloomed  once  more  in  the 
declivities  of  the  mountains,  and  the  banks  of  the  torrents 
glowed  with  a  new  vegetation,  the  final  trial  of  their  faith  and 
their  valor  drew  near.  At  the  upper  extremity  of  the  valley 
of  Angrogna  is  a  circle  of  level  ground,  called  Pra  del  Tor, 
surrounded  on  all  sides  by  tall  hills  and  mountain  peaks,  and 
entered  only  by  a  narrow  pass.(')  Behind  it  is  altogether  safe 
from  attack ;  in  front,  in  the  ravines  leading  from  below,  the 
Vaudois  had  raised  their  simple  barricades,  and  stationed  their 
sentinels  to  watch  the  approach  of  the  foe.  Hei'e,  in  this  nat- 
ural fortress,  they  liad  placed  their  wives  and  children,  their 
old  and  infirm,  had  gathered  their  small  store  of  food  and 
arms,  and  celebrated  their  ancient  worship  in  a  temple  not 
made  with  hands.(')  The  Count  of  Trinity  meantime  had  re- 
solved upon  their  complete  destruction.  With  a  large  and 
well-trained  army  he  marched  swiftly  up  the  valley.      His 

« 

(')  Mustoii,  i.,  p.  235,  ilescribes  Pra  del  Ti>r  as  a  deep  recess  among  the 
mountains. 

(^)  Lcger,  p.  35-37. 


THE  BATTLE   OF  PEA  DEL   TOR.  213 

forces  consisted  of  nearly  ten  thousand  men,  and  among 
them  was  a  large  body  of  Spanish  infantry,  the  best  soldiers 
of  the  age.  The  crusaders  were  inspired  by  the  prospect  of 
an  easy  success,  by  the  superiority  of  their  numbers,  by  the 
blessing  of  the  Pope,  and  by  his  promise  of  a  boundless  indul- 
gence, A  fierce  fanaticism,  a  wild  excitement,  stirred  by  the 
exhortations  of  the  Jesuits  and  the  priests,  ruled  in  the  ranks 
of  the  invaders  ;  the  Vaudois,  behind  their  rocks,  prayed  with 
their  gentle  barbes,  and  with  firm  hearts  prepared  to  die  for 
their  country  and  their  faith. 

The  battle  of  the  Pra  del  Tor  is  the  Marathon  of  Italian 
Christianity :  it  was  invested  with  all  the  romantic  traits  of 
patriotic  warfare.  The  army  of  the  Count  of  Trinity,  clad 
in  rich  armor  and  glittering  M'itli  military  pomp,  marched 
in  well-trained  squadrons  up  the  beautiful  valley ;  the  clamor 
of  the  trumpets  startled  the  chamois  on  his  crags,  and  drove 
the  eagle  from  her  nest ;  the  waving  plumes,  the  burnished 
arms,  the  consecrated  banners,  shone  in  the  sunlight  as  they 
drew  near  the  defenses  of  the  mountaineers.(*)  Behind  the 
Italian  troops  came  the  Spaniards,  the  bravest,  the  most  big- 
oted of  the  crusaders.  They,  too,  wore  heavy  armor,  and  were 
irresistible  in  the  open  field.  In  the  rear  of  the  invaders 
followed  a  band  of  plunderers,  brigands,  priests,  prepared  to 
profit  by  a  victory  that  seemed  perfectly  assured.  To  this 
well-trained  army  were  opposed  only  a  few  hundred  Vaudois. 
They  were  stalwart  and  agile,  but  meagre  with  toil  and  fam- 
ine. Their  dress  was  ragged,  their  arms  broken  and  imperfect. 
To  their  brilliant  assailants  they  seemed  only  an  undisciplined 
throng ;  a  single  charge  must  drive  them  routed  up  the  val- 
ley. The  Count  of  Ti-inity  gave  orders  to  attack,  and  the 
Savoyard  infantry  marched  against  the  heretics.  They  were 
hurled  back  like  waves  from  a  sea-girt  rock.  The  Yaudois 
filled  the  pass  with  a  rampart  of  their  bodies,  and  whenever 
the  Pomish  squadrons  approached  they  were  met  by  a  rain  of 
bullets,  every  one  of  which  seemed  directed  with  unerring  aim. 

(')  If  I  have  drawn  somewhat  from  fancy,  yet  the  details  may  be  in- 
ferred.    See  Leger,  p.  39. 


214:  THE    VAUDOIS. 

The  ground  was  soon  covered  witli  tlie  dead,  and  the  chant  of 
thanksgiving  resounded  within  the  amphitheatre  of  the  Alps. 

For  four  days  the  papal  forces  kept  up  their  vain  assault. 
The  Yaudois  still  maintained  their  invincible  array.  Within 
the  fastness  the  wives  and  daughters,  the  aged  and  inUrm, 
were  employed  in  bringing  food  to  their  heroes,  in  supply- 
ing them  with  ammunition,  and  cheering  them  with  words  of 
faith.  The  Count  of  Trinity,  enraged  at  his  misfortune,  at 
length  ordered  the  Spanish  infantry  to  charge.  They  came 
on  in  swift  step  to  the  clamor  of  martial  music.  But  their 
ranks  were  soon  decimated  by  the  bullets  of  the  patriots ;  the 
oflScers  fell  on  all  sides ;  and  the  well-trained  troops  refused 
any  longer  to  approach  the  fatal  pass.  Four  hundred  dead 
lay  upon  the  held.  A  wild  panic  seized  upon  the  papal  army, 
and  it  lied,  disordered  and  routed,  through  the  valley. (') 

Then  the  Yaudois  came  out  from  their  hiding-places,  and 
chased  the  crusaders  along  the  open  country  far  down  to  the 
borders  of  Angrogna.  Xo  mercy  was  shown  to  the  ruthless 
papists,  Tliey  were  flung  over  the  rocks  into  the  fathomless 
abyss,  shot  down  by  skillful  marksmen  as  they  strove  to  hide 
in  the  forest,  and  followed  with  pitiless  vigor  in  their  desid- 
tory  flight.  Xo  trace  remained  of  that  powerful  army  that  a 
few  days  before  had  moved  with  military  pomp  to  the  captm-e 
of  Pra  del  Tor ;  its  fine  battalions  had  been  broken  by  the  val- 
or of  a  few  mountaineers ;  a  rich  booty  of  arms  and  provisions 
supplied  the  wants  of  the  heroes  of  the  valley. 

From  this  time  (1561)  for  nearly  a  century  no  new  crusade 
was  preached  against  the  Yaudois.  Their  native  sovereigns 
were  satisfied  with  lesser  persecutions.  The  barbes,  as  usual, 
were  often  burned ;  the  valleys  were  oppressed  with  a  cruel 
taxation ;  the  earnings  of  the  honest  people  were  torn  from 
them  to  maintain  dissolute  princes  and  indolent  priests.  In 
1596,  Charles  Emanuel  ordered  all  the  Yaudois,  under  pain  of 
death  or  exile,  to  attend  the  preaching  of  the  Jesuits,Q  and 


(')  See  narrative  of  Scipio  Lentulus  in  Leger,  part  ii.,  p.  35. 
(-)  "  D'Andare  alle  prediclio  delli  revereudi  padri  Jesuiti,"  etc.     Leger, 
part  ii.,  p.  61.     The  Jesuits  united  esliortatiou  with  severity. 


VAUDOIS  PATIENCE.  215 

the  valleys  were  filled  with  the  disciples  of  Loyola,  who  strove 
to  corrupt  or  terrify  the  youth  of  the  early  Church,  To  every 
convert  was  offered  an  exemption  from  taxation,  and  various 
favors  and  emoluments  were  heaped  upon  him  who  would 
attend  mass.  Yet  the  restless  Jesuits  were  altogether  unsuc- 
cessful. Their  preaching  and  their  bribes  were  equally  con- 
temned by  the  haj)py  mountaineers ;  the  Church  still  lived  un- 
spotted from  the  world.(')  During  this  period  of  tolerable 
suffering  the  valleys  once  more  glowed  with  the  products  of 
a  careful  industry ;  they  were  the  homes  of  purity  and  thrift. 
Singular  among  their  race,  the  inheritors  of  a  long  succession 
of  elevated  thought,  the  Yaudois  have  ever  practiced  an  ideal 
virtue  loftier  than  that  of  Plato.  When  feudalism  taught 
that  labor  was  dishonorable,  the  people  of  the  valleys  held  ev- 
ery family  disgraced  that  did  not  maintain  itself  by  its  own 
useful  toil.  When  the  learned  Jesuits  had  proved  that  deceit 
was  often  lawful,  the  Yaudois  declared  that  falsehood  was  the' 
corruption  of  the  soul.  In  the  happy  valleys  no  one  desired 
to  be  rich,  no  one  strove  to  rise  in  rank  above  his  fellows. 
While  in  the  gifted  circles  of  the  European  capitals  the  puri- 
ty of  woman  was  scoffed  at  by  philosophers  and  courtiers,  in 
Luzerna  and  Perouse  every  maiden  was  a  Lucretia,  Crime 
had  seldom  been  known  in  the  peaceful  valleys ;  it  was  only 
in  barbarous  lands  where  the  Jesuits  ruled  that  the  assassin 
aimed  his  dagger  or  the  robber  plied  his  trade.f)  To  harm 
no  one,  to  be  at  peace  with  all  men,  to  forgive,  to  pity,  were 
the  natural  impulses  of  every  A^audois ;  to  heal  the  sick,  to 
raise  the  low,  to  relieve  the  suffering  stranger,  formed  the 
modest  joys  of  the  children  of  the  valleys.  In  every  age  they 
remained  the  same ;  in  every  age  they  were  Christians.  The 
seventeenth  century  of  their  faith,  perhaps  of  their  existence, 
found  them  still  an  uncorrupted  church,  teaching  to  the  world 
unlimited  freedom  of  conscience.  For  this  they  were  willing 
to  peril  their  lives  and  fortunes  ;  for  this  they  had  contended 

(')  Peyran,  Nouv.  Lett.,  i.     We  may  well  accept  the  traditions  of  so 
truthful  a  race. 

(")  MustoD,  i.,  livre  viii.,  Etat  moral  ct  religieux  ties  vallees. 


216  THE    VAUDOIS. 

with  popes  and  kings ;  and  on  every  cliff  and  mountain  peak 
of  their  native  land  was  inscribed  in  immortal  deeds  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  soul.(') 

Meantime,  while  no  change  had  taken  place  in  the  Alpine 
Church,  its  doctrines  and  rites  had  been  accepted  by  all  North- 
ern Enroj)e.  In  the  seventeenth  century  the  papacy  had  lost 
its  most  powerful  and  warlike  adherents.  England  in  1650, 
ruled  by  Cromwell,  instructed  by  Milton,  stood  in  the  front 
rank  of  the  progressive  nations.  Holland  and  Northern  Ger- 
many maintained  their  free  schools  and  their  liberal  press 
in  defiance  of  the  Jesuits  and  the  Pope.  France  had  been 
forced  to  tolerate  the  Huguenots.  It  was  only  over  Italy  and 
Spain  that  the  Inquisition  of  Loyola,  founded  in  1541,  held 
its  terrible  sway.  There  the  papal  power  had  been  erected 
upon  a  relentless  despotism,  and  the  unhappy  people  were 
rapidly  sinking  to  a  low  rank  among  civilized  nations.  The 
rule  of  the  Jesuits  was  followed  by  a  total  decay  of  morals, 
a  general  decline  of  the  intellect.  Once  Italy  had  been  the 
centre  of  classic  elegance,  of  the  reviving  arts,  of  the  splen- 
dors of  a  new  civilization.  It  was  now  the  home  of  gross  su- 
perstitions, a  degraded  priesthood,  a  hopeless  people.  Spain 
and  Portugal,  once  the  leaders  in  discovery,  the  rulers  of  the 
seas,  had  fallen  into  a  new  barbarism.  The  Jesuits,  the  In- 
quisition, alone  flourished  in  their  fallen  capitals  and  deserted 
ports  ;  the  manly  vigor  of  the  countrymen  of  the  Cid  had  been 
corrupted  by  centuries  of  papal  tyranny. 

In  the  seventeenth  century  the  Yaudois  were  the  only  pro- 
gressive portion  of  the  Italian  race.f)  Every  inhabitant  of 
the  valleys  was  educated ;  the  barbes  were  excellent  teach- 
ers, their  people  eager  to  learn  ;  the  laborers  instructed  each 
other  as  they  toiled  side  by  side  on  their  mountains ;  their  in- 
dustry was  the  parent  of  active  minds.  If  they  produced  no 
eminent  poet  to  sing  of  dreadful  war,  no  astute  philosopher, 
no  vigorous  critic,  they  could  at  least  point  to  several  native 

C)  .T.  Bresse,  Hist.  Vau«l.,  p.  39. 

C)  Mnston,  Hist.  Vaud.,  i.,  p.  394;  "Nos  temples  ue  sont  d^cor<Ss  ni  do 
croix  ui  d'i mages,"  etc. 


THE  ''NOBLE  LESSON »  217 

historians  of  considerable  merit ;  to  their  "  Noble  Lesson," 
the  finest  of  niediseval  poems ;  to  their  stiri'ing  hymns  and 
versions  of  the  Psalms ;(')  to  a  long  succession  of  intelligent 
barbes ;  to  their  missionaries  of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  to  their  col- 
leges and  schools  in  Alpine  caves.  Thej  might  claim  that 
the  ideas  of  the  valleys  had  promoted  the  civilization  of  Eu- 
ro^^e,  and  that  their  perpetual  protest  in  favor  of  liberty  of 
thought  had  been  of  more  value  to  the  world  than  Tasso's 
epic  or  Raphael's  Madonnas. 

A  pestilence  swept  over  the  valleys  in  1630 ;  nearly  all  the 
pastors  died,  and  the  Yaudois  were  forced  to  send  to  Geneva 
for  a  new  band  of  teachers.  The  Calvinistic  system  of  gov- 
ernment, in  a  milder  form,  was  now  adopted ;  tlie  name  of 
barbe  was  no  longer  used ;  the  ruling  elder  was  called  a  mod- 
erator ;  the  pastors  were  usually  educated  at  Geneva ;  and  the 
ancient  catechism  of  the  twelfth  century  was  exchanged  for  a 
modern  compilation. (^)  Yet  the  Yaudois  have  never  consent- 
ed to  be  called  Calvinists,  Protestants,  or  Peformers ;  they  in- 
sist that  they  are  primitive  Christians,  who  have  never  changed 
their  doctrine  or  their  ritual  since  the  days  of  St.  Paul  ;(^)  wlio 
liave  beheld  untainted  all  the  corruption  of  the  Eastern  or  the 
Western  Church  ;  whose  succession  from  the  apostles  is  proved 
by  no  vain  tradition,  no  episcopal  ordination,  but  by  an  unin- 
terrupted descent  of  Christian  virtues  and  an  apostolic  creed. 
They  modestly  assert  that  they  have  ever  used  the  simple  rit- 
ual employed  by  James,  the  brother  of  the  Lord,  at  Jerusalem, 

(*)  Raynouard,  ii.,  p.  71  et  seq.,  gives  extracts  from  the  early  Vandois 
poems.  The  fiue  hymn,  Lo  Payre  Eternal,  contrasts  boldly  with  the  feeble 
Eomish  hymns  to  Mary  or  the  saints. 

(^)  Muston,  Israel  of  Alps,  i.,  p.  310. 

(^)  The  Middle -age  Protestant  hymn,  Lo  Payre  Eternal  (The  Eternal 
Father),  expresses  the  noble  feeling  of  the  mountain  church.  I  add  a  few 
lines.  The  poet  calls  on  God  to  pity  and  forgive,  and  then  asks  to  reign 
with  him  in  a  celestial  kingdom. 

"Rey  glorios,  regnant  sobrc  tuit  li  rcgne, 

Fay  me  regner  cum  tu  al  tie  celestial  rcgne 
Que  yo  cbantc  cum  tuit  li  saut  e  sempre  laudar  te  degnc." 

See  Raynouard,  ii.,  p.  117.    With  this  contrast  a  feeble  chant  to  llie  Virgin  : 

"O  Marie!  de  Dicu  mere,  Dieu  t'cst  et  fils  et  perc !" 


218  THE   TAVDOIS. 

or  Paul  at  Antiocli ;  and  that  they  prefer  to  retain  unchanged 
the  name  they  bore  before  the  Popes  wore  the  tiara  of  Anti- 
christ, and  before  Christians  were  oppressed  by  the  corruptions 
and  the  crimes  of  a  visible  Church. 

So  much  liberality  of  doctrine,  such  purity  of  life  and  faith, 
could  not  fail  to  deserve  the  constant  hostility  of  the  Jesuits. 
That  famous  company  was  now  in  the  maturity  of  its  early 
vigor.  Its  flourishing  colleges  filled  the  Catholic  capitals  of 
Europe ;  its  countless  members,  bound  by  their  terrible  oath 
of  obedience,  moved  like  a  united  army  upon  the  defenses  of 
the  reformed  faith.  They  had  subjected  Italy,  had  desolated 
Spain  ;  they  once  more  turned  the  whole  energy  of  the  united 
order  to  the  extirpation  of  the  children  of  the  valleys.  In 
1650,  the  Jesuits  founded  a  propaganda  at  Turin  in  imitation 
of  that  at  Rome.(')  Its  design  was  to  spread  the  Roman  faith, 
to  extirpate  heresy  by  all  the  most  powerful  instruments  of 
force  or  fraud.  A  council  was  formed,  composed  of  the  most 
eminent  citizens,  who  were  to  act  as  general  Incpiisitors. 
Among  them  were  the  Marquis  of  Pianessa,  the  Grand  Chan- 
cellor, the  President  of  the  Senate ;  its  chief  officer  was  the 
Archbishop  of  Turin.  ConuctL^d  with  the  propaganda  was  a 
council  of  distinguished  and  wealtny  women,  who  proved  even 
more  zealous  than  the  men.  The  noblest  ladies  of  Turin  join- 
ed in  the  new  crusade ;  large  sums  of  money  were  collected  to 
aid  the  movement ;  the  emissaries  of  the  two  councils  united 
in  visiting  families  suspected  of  heretical  practices,  and  in  striv- 
ing to  win  over  converts  by  intimidation  or  bribes.  The  poor 
serving-woman  from  the  valleys  was  often  assailed  by  a  no- 
ble tempter ;  the  heretics  of  a  higher  rank  were  won  by  flatter- 
ies and  attentions.  The  languid  atmosphere  of  the  capital  of 
Savoy  was  stirred  by  the  new  effort  to  propagate  the  creed  of 
Home. 

From  the  higher  peaks  of  their  native  Alps  the  Yaudois 
look  down  upon  the  palaces  and  cathedrals  of  Turin.  Before 
them  lies  that  magnificent  scene  with  which  Hannibal  stimu- 

(')  Leger,  part  ii.,  p.  73,  describes  tlie  Jesuit  propaganda  at  Tiiiin,  aud 
imputes  to  it  all  the  misfortuues  of  bis  couutry. 


OMUXS  OF  DANGER.  219 

lated  the  avarice  of  liis  toil-worn  army  as  he  pointed  out  tlie 
path  to  Koine.  But  in  the  seventeenth  century  the  rude  vil- 
lage of  the  Taurini  had  grown  into  a  powerful  and  splendid 
city ;  the  landscape  was  rich  with  the  product  of  centuries  of 
toil;  the  plains  of  Piedmont  were  the  gardens  of  the  age. 
The  Yaudois,  ever  loyal  and  forgiving,  had'  never  failed  in 
their  duty  to  their  sovereigns.  The  dukes  of  Savoy,  always 
their  worst  persecutors,  seem  yet  to  have  obtained  their  last- 
ing regard.  They  appealed  to  their  clemency  in  moments  of 
danger.  They  had  usually  been  sternly  told  to  choose  be- 
tween the  mass  and  ruin.  Yet,  in  1650,  they  had  enjoyed  a 
period  of  comparative  rest ;  and  little  did  they  foresee,  as  they 
looked  down  upon  the  city  of  their  sovereign  and  the  rich 
plains  around,  that  the  great  and  the  noble  were  plotting  their 
destruction,  that  the  last  crowning  trial  of  their  ancient  Church 
was  near  at  hand. 

The  first  omen  of  danger  was  a  new  influx  of  Jesuits.  The 
valleys  were  thronged  with  haggard  and  fanatical  missionaries. 
They  pressed  into  remote  districts,  and  celebrated  mass  in 
scenes  where  it  had  never  been  lieard  before.  A  ceaseless 
plotting  went  on  againsL  the  I'aithful  Yaudois;  every  art  was 
employed  to  bribe  the  young ;  to  arouse  the  pastors  to  a  dan- 
gerous resistance ;  to  disturb  the  harmony  of  families  and  fill 
the  valleys  with  domestic  strife.  In  Turin  the  Inquisition 
sat  constantly,  and  before  its  hated  tribunal  were  summoned 
the  most  noted  of  the  Yaudois.  If  they  failed  to  appear,  their 
goods  were  forfeited,  their  lives  in  peril ;  if  they  came,  they 
probably  disappeared  forever  from  human  sight.  The  dun- 
geon, the  rack,  and  the  auto-da-fe  awaited  those  who  denied 
the  infallibility  of  the  Pope. 

P)Ut  the  Jesuits  refused  to  be  satisfied  with  these  isolated 
persecutions ;(')  they  pressed  the  Duke  of  Savoy  to  complete 
the  ruin  of  the  Alpine  Church.  The  world  has  witnessed  no 
sadder  spectacle  than  that  long  reign  of  terrors  that  was  now 
spread  over  the  peaceful  valleys.    In  January,  1655,  was  issued 

(')  All  the  authorities  unite  iu  fixing  the  claief  guilt  of  tlio  massacres 
upon  the  Jesuits.     See  Leger,  part  ii.,  p.  72  d  seq. 


220  THE   VAUDOIS. 

the  famous  order  of  Gastaldo,  the  opening  of  the  dreadful 
struggle.  By  this  degree,  sanctioned  by  the  court  of  Turin,, 
every  Vaudois  in  the  towns  at  the  lower  extremity  of  the  val- 
leys was  commanded  either  to  attend  mass  or  to  abandon  his 
home  and  fly  to  the  upper  villages.  The  whole  heretic  pop- 
ulation were  to  be  shut  up  within  a  narrow  region  around 
Bobbio  and  Angrogna.  It  was  a  winter  of  singular  sever- 
ity; the  snow  lay  deep  in  the  upper  valleys;  the  torrents 
rolled  down  clad  in  ice ;  the  fields  were  covered  with  inunda- 
tions; the  ravines  were  almost  impassable.  Yet  the  sad  and 
long  procession  of  faithful  Christians  were  forced  to  leave 
their  comfortable  homes  in  Lucerna  or  St.  Jean  and  bear  the 
horrors  of  the  wintry  march.  The  aged,  the  sick,  the  once- 
smiling  children,  the  feeble  and  the  young,  the  gentle  ma- 
tron, the  accomplished  maid,  set  out  in  a  pitiful  throng  on 
their  dreadful  ]ourney.(')  They  waded  hand-in-hand  through 
the  icy  waters,  broke  the  deep,  untrodden  snows,  climbed  the 
wintry  hills,  and  sought  refuge  with  their  impoverished  breth- 
ren of  the  Alpine  villages.  Yet  no  one  recanted ;  no  native 
Vaudois  would  consent  to  escape  the  pains  of  exile  by  attend- 
ing an  idolatrous  mass.  "Whole  cities  and  villages  in  the  lower 
valleys  were  nearly  depopulated ;  families  were  reduced  from 
ease  and  comfort  to  extreme  and  painful  want ;  a  fruitful 
region  was  desolated ;  but  the  Jesuits  were  disappointed,  for 
the  indestructible  Church  survived  among  the  mountains. 

Their  next  project  was  a  war  of  extermination,  A  pretext 
was  easily  discovered:  a  priest  had  been  found  murdered  in 
a  Yaudois  village ;  a  convent  of  Capuchins,  planted  in  one  of 
the  ruined  towns,  had  been  broken  up  by  an  impetuous  pas- 
tor; the  mass  had  been  ridiculed;  the  exiled  people  sometimes 
stole  back  to  their  desecrated  homes.  Turin  was  filled  with 
ra^e;  the  duke  decreed  the  destruction  of  the  Yaudois. 
Again  a  crusade  began  against  the  people  of  the  valleys. 
The  historian  Leger,  who  was  a  Yaudois  pastor,  and  saw  the 
sufferino-s  and  the  heroism  of  his  countrymen,  has  described 


(')  Leger,  part  ii.,  p.  94  et  seq. :  "  Se  trouvaut  dans  le  cceur  du  pins  rnde 
liyver  qti'ils  ftsseut  jamais  senti." 


THE  FLIGHT  OF  THE  VAUBOIS.  221 

witli  startling  minuteness  the  details  of  the  persecution.  Tlie 
papal  troops  entered  the  valleys,  roused  by  the  priests  and 
Jesuits  to  an  unparalleled  madness.  Such  cruelties,  such 
crimes,  have  never  before  or  since  been  perpetrated  upon  the 
earth ;  the  French  Kevolution  offers  but  a  faint  comparison ; 
the  tortures  of  Diocletian  or  Decius  may  approach  their  real- 
ity. The  gentle,  intelligent,  and  cultivated  Vaudois  fell  into 
the  power  of  a  band  of  demons.  Their  chief  rage  was  direct- 
ed against  women  and  children.  The  babe  was  torn  from  the 
mother's  breast  and  cast  into  the  blazing  fire ;(')  the  mother 
w^as  impaled,  and  left  to  die  in  unpitied  agony.  Often  hus- 
band and  wife  w^ere  bound  together  and  burned  in  the  same 
pyre;  often  accomplished  matrons,  educated  in  refinement 
and  ease,  were  hacked  to  pieces  by  papal  soldiers,  and  their 
headless  trunks  left  unburied  in  the  snow.  A  general  search 
was  made  for  Yaudois.  Every  cave  was  entered,  every  crag 
visited,  where  there  was  no  danger  of  resistance ;  every  for- 
est was  carefully  explored.  When  any  were  found,  whether 
young  or  old,  they  were  chased  from  their  hiding-places  over 
the  snowy  hills,  and  thrown  from  steep  crags  into  the  deep 
ravines  below.  No  cliff  but  had  its  martyr ;  no  hill  on  which 
had  not  blazed  the  persecutor's  fire.  In  Leger's  history,  print- 
ed in  1669,  are  preserved  rude  but  vigorous  engravings  of  the 
malignant  tortures  inflicted  by  the  papal  soldiers  upon  his 
countrymen.  There,  in  the  Alpine  solitudes,  amidst  the  snow- 
clad  summits  of  the  wintry  hills,  are  seen  the  dying  matron  ; 
the  tortured  child ;  the  persecutor  chasing  his  victims  over 
the  icy  fields;  the  virgin  snows  covered  wdtli  the  blood  of 
fated  innocence ;  the  terrified  people  climbing  higher  and 
higher  up  the  tallest  Alps,  glad  to  dwell  with  the  eagle  and 
the  chamois,  above  the  rage  of  persecuting  man.(^) 

The  Pope  applauded,  the  Duke  of  Savoy  rejoiced  in  the 

(')  Leger,  part  ii.,  p.  110  et  seq. :  "  Les  petits  enfans,  impitoyablement  ar- 
rach^s  des  maiuelles  cle  leurs  tendres  mferes,  estoient  emiioigiK^s  par  les 
pieds,"  etc.  The  narrative  is  that  of  eye-witnesses,  and  from  depositions 
made  soon  after.     Men  of  eighty  and  ninety  years  were  bnrned. 

(^)  The  narrative  of  the  x)crsecution  is  too  dreadful  to  be  repeated,  too 
horrible  to  be  remembered. 


222  THE  VAUDOIS. 

massacres  of  the  valleys.  The  Jesuits  chanted  their  thanks- 
giving in  the  mined  villages.  The  Capuchins  restored  their 
convent.  The  Chui'ch  of  Rome  ruled  over  the  blood-stained 
waste.  Bnt  when  the  news  of  the  unexampled  atrocities  of 
the  Alps  came  to  the  great  Protestant  powers  of  the  North, 
when  it  was  told  in  London  or  The  Hague  that  the  harmless 
people  of  the  valleys,  the  successors  of  the  apostles,  had  been 
slain  in  their  villages  and  cut  to  pieces  on  their  native  cliffs, 
horror  and  amazement  tilled  all  men.  The  reformers  of  ev- 
ery land  had  long  looked  with  interest  and  affection  upon  the 
Alpine  Church ;  had  admired  its  heroism,  had  imitated  its 
simplicity  ;  that  it  should  perish  amidst  the  savage  cruelties 
of  the  Jesuits  and  the  Pope  they  could  scarcely  bear,  A  loud 
cry  of  disgust  and  indignation  arose  from  all  the  Northern 
courts.(')  But  one  mind,  the  greatest  and  the  purest  that  had 
descended  upon  the  earth  since  the  apostolic  age,  gave  utter- 
ance to  the  common  indignation.  Milton  was  now  Cromwell's 
secretary,  and,  although  blind,  watched  over  the  affairs  of  Eu- 
rope. His  quick  perception,  his  liberal  opinions,  his  ready 
learning,  his  easy  Latin  style,  have  given  to  the  foreign  corre- 
spondence of  the  Protector  an  excellence  never  to  be  equaled 
in  the  annals  of  diplomacy.  To  the  learned,  the  liberal,  the 
progressive  Milton  the  Alpine  Church  must  ever  have  been 
singularly  dear.  It  reflected  all  his  own  cherished  opinions; 
his  own  simplicity,  naturalness,  and  love  of  truth;  it  was 
clothed  with  a  halo  of  historic  association  that,  to  his  poetic 
thouglit,  covered  it  with  immortal  lustre. 

In  one  great  sonnet  Milton  has  condensed  the  indignation 
of  the  age.(")  He  cried  to  Heaven  to  avenge  its  slaughtered 
saints ;  he  paints  with  a  mighty  touch  the  cold  Alps,  the  dy- 
ing martyrs,  the  papal  monsters,  the  persecuted  Church.  No 
grander  strain,  no  more  powerful  explication,  has  fallen  from 
the  pen  of  the  lord  of  modern  poetry.  The  stern  enthusi- 
ast Cromwell  shared  Milton's  indignation,  and  the  poet  and 
the  soldier  strove  to  preserve  tlie  Alpine   Church.     Milton 


(')  See  Gilly,  Excnr. ;  Legcr,  ii.,240. 

(^)  "  Aveuge,  O  Lord,  thy  slaugbtereil  siiiuts,"  etc. 


MILTON  WOULD  SAVE  THE  VAUDOIS.  223 

wrote,  in  the  name  of  the  Protector,  a  courtly  but  vigorous  ap- 
peal to  the  murderous  Duke  of  Savoy.  Cromwell  said  that 
he  was  bound  to  the  Vaudois  by  a  common  faith  ;  that  he  had 
heard  of  their  butchery,  their  exposure  on  the  frozen  Alj)s: 
he  besought  the  duke  to  withdraw  the  edict  of  extermination. 
The  letter  was  composed  in  Latin  by  Milton,  and  was  copied, 
it  is  said,  by  one  of  his  daughters.  It  is  dated  May  25th, 
1655,  soon  after  the  news  arrived.  All  England  mourned  for 
the  slaughtered  saints,  and  Cromwell  appointed  a  day  of  fast- 
ing and  prayer  for  their  deliverance.  Large  sums  of  money 
were  collected  in  London  for  their  support,  and  the  Holland- 
ers were  equally  liberal.  Milton's  j^en  now  knew  no  rest;  he 
wrote  to  the  various  Protestant  powers  to  intercede  for  the 
Yaudois ;  he  appealed  to  Louis  XIV.  of  France  to  give  shelter 
to  the  exiles  and  to  aid  in  their  preservation.  "  The  groans 
of  those  wretched  men,  the  Protestants  of  Lucerna,  Angrogna, 
and  the  other  Alpine  valleys,"  Cromwell  said,  "  have  reached 
our  ears."  When  the  persecutions  still  continued  he  wrote  in 
stronger  terms ;(')  and  the  bold  and  stern  Sir  Samuel  Mor- 
landf )  was  sent  as  envoy  to  the  court  of  Turin  to  remonstrate 
against  its  enormities.  The  embassador  did  not  spare  the 
papists,  at  least  in  words.  He  told  the  duke  that  angels  were 
horrified,  that  men  were  amazed,  and  the  earth  blushed  at  the 
fearful  spectacle.  The  Swiss  cantons  and  the  German  princes 
united  in  a  strong  remonstrance.  Said  the  Landgrave  of 
Hesse :  "  Persecutions  and  butcheries  are  not  the  means  to 
suppress  a  religion,  but  rather  to  preserve  it."  But  no  sense 
of  shame  reached  the  hearts  of  the  monster  duke  and  his  Jes- 
uit advisers ;  they  pretended,  with  keen  subtlety,  to  listen  to 
the  appeals  of  the  Protestant  powers,  yet  they  still  permitted 
the  work  of  extermination  to  go  on. 

Safe  in  the  shelter  of  the  Italian  court  and  certain  of  the 
sympathy  of  that  of  France,  the  Jesuits  and  the  Pope  heard 
with  secret  joy  the  grief  and  rage  of  the  arch-heretic  Cromwell 
and  his  allies  of  the  North.     They  resolved  to  persist  in  their 

(')  Gilly,  Narrative,  gives  the  letters  of  Cromwell  or  Milton,  p.  217-229. 
C)  Gilly,  Narrative,  p.  229. 


224:  THE   VAUDOIS. 

dreadful  labors  until  no  trace  of  heresy  should  be  left  upon  Ital- 
ian soil.  It  is  probable  that,  had  the  Protector  lived,  the  fleets 
of  England  might  have  avenged  the  Christians  of  the  valleys ; 
that  the  artillery  of  the  Puritans  might  have  startled  the  Ital- 
ian potentates  from  their  fancied  security.  But  the  great  chief- 
tain died ;  the  greater  poet  sunk  into  a  happy  obscurity,  from 
whence  was  to  shine  forth  the  highest  fruit  of  his  genius ;  and 
all  Eno-land  was  dissolved,  in  fatal  license  nnder  the  dissolute 
reign  of  Charles.  At  his  death  the  Jesuits  rejoiced  in  the 
rule  of  James  II.,  and  confidently  hoped  to  bring  once  more 
under  the  papal  sway  the  land  of  Milton  and  Cromwell.  It 
was  a  disastrous  period  for  Protestantism.  England  no  longer 
stretched  forth  its  powerful  arm  to  shield  its  weaker  brethren. 
Holland  seemed,  about  to  sink  before  the  Catholic  zeal  of 
Louis  XIV.  Geneva  trembled  among  its  mountains.  And 
at  length  the  Jesuits  prevailed  upon  the  King  of  France  to 
revoke  the  Edict  of  Nantes  and  commence  a  bitter  persecution 
of  the  Huguenots.  The  best,  the  wisest,  the  most  progressive 
of  the  French  died  in  crowded  prisons  or  by  the  arms  of  the 
papal  butchers,  or  were  glad  to  escape,  impoverished,  to  for- 
eign lands.  A  perfect  religious  despotism  prevailed  in  France, 
from  which  it  was  only  rescued  by  the  convulsive  horrors  of 
its  Revolution. 

There  was  now  no  more  hope  for  the  Vaudois.(')  Friend- 
less, except  in  the  arm  of  Him  who  guided  the  avalanche  and 
checked  the  raging  torrent  in  its  course,  the  poor  and  humble 
people,  cheered  by  their  gallant  pastors,  bore  with  patient  joy 
the  burden  of  a  fearful  existence.  From  1655  to  1685  they 
suffered  all  the  ignominies  and  all  the  cruelties  that  could  be 
inflicted  by  the  malevolent  ])riests.  The  valleys  were  filled 
with  monks  and  Jesuits,  and  bands  of  papal  soldiers,  who  rav- 
ished the  last  loaf  from  the  humble  homes  of  the  industrious 
Christians.  Often  the  Vaudois,  roused  to  resistance  by  some 
dreadful  atrocity,  would  fly  to  arms  and  perform  miracles  of 

(')  Muston  began  his  valuable  labors,  eil.  1834,  by  asserting,  "La  gloire 
des  Vandois  est  dans  leur  malbeur."  He  bad  not  yet  looked  forward  to 
their  present  triuuiidi. 


THE  CAVE  OF  CASTELLUZO.  225 

valor  amidst  their  native  crags;  war  would  rage  again  along 
the  valleys ;  and  great  armies  of  papists  would  march  from 
Turin  or  Pignerol  and  chase  the  people  to  the  mountains. 
Then  the  old,  the  sick,  women  and  children,  would  be  carried 
by  the  strong  arms  of  their  sons  and  their  brothers  to  some 
secluded  cavern,  known  only  to  themselves,  and  there  hide 
for  months  until  the  danger  seemed  past ;  in  fact,  the  Vaudois 
learned,  like  the  marmot,  to  make  their  homes  in  the  living 
rock. 

One  of  these  singular  natural  retreats  of  safety  has  perhaps 
been  discovered  by  a  modern  traveler.  He  had  searched  for 
many  days  for  the  famous  cavern  of  Castelluzo.  The  memo- 
ry of  the  place  had  been  forgotten ;  it  was  only  known  that 
down  some  dizzy  precipice,  overhanging  a  dreadful  abyss,  a 
cave  existed,  opening  into  the  solid  rock,  where  three  or  four 
hundred  Vaudois  had  once  lived  safe  from  the  Pope  and  the 
Jesuits.  At  length  his  guides  assured  the  traveler  that  they  had 
found  the  forgotten  retreat.  On  a  fair  day  of  the  Alpine  au- 
tumn, when  the  golden  fields  were  smiling  with  the  gathered 
harvests,  the  stranger  ventured  to  enter,  with  extreme  hazard, 
the  dangerous  scene.  He  could  scarcely  conceive  how  old 
men,  women,  and  children,  amidst  the  snows  of  winter,  could 
have  descended  into  their  only  home.  The  entrance  lay  over 
a  projecting  crag.  Far  below  opened  a  deep  ravine,  from 
which  shot  up  a  wall  of  rock.  The  cave  was  cut  by  Nature's 
hand  in  the  side  of  the  precipice.  A  rope-ladder  was  pro- 
vided and  swung  over  the  projecting  cliff.  It  was  made  to 
rest  on  a  slight  ledge  about  fifty  feet  below.  The  guides  de- 
scended, the  traveler  followed,  and  with  great  risk  reached  the 
grotto.  It  proved  to  be  an  irregular  sloping  gallery,  formed 
by  the  overhanging  cliffs.  On  one  side  a  projecting  crag  shel- 
tered it  from  the  weather ;  before  it  opened  the  unfathomed 
abyss.  A  spring  of  water  seemed  to  exist  in  one  corner,  and 
a  few  shrubs  and  plants  grew  in  the  interstices  of  the  rock.(') 
The  cave  was  shallow,  light,  and  almost  safe  from  attack. 
Only  a  single  person  could  enter  it  at  a  time,  and  a  single 

(')  Waldeusiau  Researches,  Gilly,  p.  513. 

15 


226  THE   FAUDOIS. 

stalwart  Yandois  might  here  defy  an  army.  Yet  there  were 
no  traces  of  its  having  been  inhabited ;  no  smoke  of  Yaudois 
fires,  nor  remnants  of  arms  or  furniture  ;  and  the  traveler  left 
tlie  place  still  in  doubt  whether  he  had  really  found  the  fa- 
mous cave  described  by  Leger,  where  nature  had  provided  em- 
brasures, windows  for  sentinels,  an  oven,  and  a  secure  retreat 
for  three  hundred  of  his  countrymen. (*) 

At  last,  in  1685,  came  that  fatal  period  so  long  anticipated 
with  triumph  by  the  Jesuits  of  Turin,  when  the  voice  of 
Christian  prayer  and  praise  was  no  longer  heard  in  the  val- 
leys. The  wonderful  people  had  survived  for  six  centuries 
the  enmity  of  the  papacy ;  but  now  the  Alpine  Church  seem- 
ed forever  blotted  from  existence.  Louis  XIY.,  the  destroyer 
of  the  Huguenots  and  of  France,  pressed  the  Duke  of  Savoy 
to  drive  the  heretics  from  his  dominions.  General  Catinat, 
one  of  the  best  commanders  of  tlie  time,  led  a  well-appointed 
army  into  the  valleys ;  the  people  took  up  arms,  and,  with 
their  usual  heroism,  at  first  baffled  and  defeated  the  efforts  of 
the  French ;  then  a  lethargy  seemed  to  pass  over  them,  and 
they  yielded  to  the  foe.  A  dreadful  punishment  now  fell 
upon  them.  The  papal  soldiers  swept  through  the  valleys, 
made  prisoners  of  nearly  the  whole  population,  and  carried 
them  away  to  the  dungeons  of  Turin.  Fourteen  thousand 
persons  were  shut  up  in  a  close  confinement.  The  conse- 
quences were  such  as  might  have  touched  the  hearts  of  Dio- 
cletian and  Decius,  but  to  the  Jesuits  and  to  Kome  they  were 
only  a  source  of  insane  joy.  The  stalwart  mountaineers,  and 
their  wives  and  children,  shut  out  from  their  free  Alpine  air, 
starved  and  persecuted,  pined  in  a  horrible  imprisonment. 
Diseases  raged  among  them  ;  a  pestilence  came ;  and  of  the 
fourteen  thousand  saints,  the  followers  of  Christ,  only  three 
thousand  came,  emaciated  and  pale,  from  their  noisome  dun- 
geons. Eleven  thousand  had  died  to  satisfy  the  malice  of 
Rome. 

There  was  now  peace  in  the  silent  valleys ;  villages  without 
inhabitants,  homes  without  a  family,  churches  no  longer  filled 

(^)  Leger,  i.,  p.  9. 


MASS   CELEBRATED  IN  THE    VALLEYS.  227 

with  the  eloquence  of  supplication.  A  few  Romanists  alone 
occupied  the  silent  scene.  At  length  a  colony  of  papists,  gath- 
ered from  the  neigliboring  country,  was  sent  in  to  take  pos- 
session of  the  fields  and  dwellings  of  the  Vaudois ;  the  church- 
es of  the  ancient  faith  were  torn  down  or  converted  into  Rom- 
ish chapels ;  the  Jesuits  wandered  freely  from  St.  Jean  to  Pra 
del  Tor.  For  the  first  time  since  the  dawn  of  Christianity, 
the  Virgin  was  worshiped  beneath  the  crags  of  San  Martino, 
and  the  idolatry  of  the  mass  desecrated  the  scene  so  long  con- 
secrated by  an  apostolic  faith.  For  three  years  the  rule  of  the 
papists  remained  undisturbed.  The  sad  remnant  of  the  Vau- 
dois meantime  had  wandered  to  foreign  lands.  Several  thou- 
sand climbed  the  Alps,  and  came,  emaciated  and  wayworn,  to 
the  Swiss.  Here  they  were  received  with  sincere  kindness, 
and  found  a  momentary  rest.  Several  of  the  pastors  found  a 
home  in  Holland  ;  at  Leyden,  Leger  composed  his  history  of 
his  country.  A  colony  of  exiled  Vaudois  came  afterward  to 
America,  and  settled  near  Philadelphia ;  others  went  to  Ger- 
many or  England.  Some,  perhaps,  remained  in  the  valleys, 
concealing  their  faith  under  a  conformity  with  the  Romish 
rule.  And  thus,  in  1689,  seemed  forever  dissipated  that  hal- 
lowed race,  that  assembly  of  the  faithful,  over  whose  career  in 
history  had  ever  hung  a  spotless  halo  of  ideal  purity. 

In  the  fearful  winter  of  1686-87,  when  the  Rhone  was 
frozen  to  its  bed  and  the  Alps  were  incrusted  with  ice,  the 
papists  drove  the  surviving  remnant  of  the  prisoners  over  the 
precipitous  passes  of  Mont  Cenis.  The  aged,  the  sick,  women, 
children,  the  wounded,  and  the  faint,  climbed  with  unsteady 
steps  the  chill  waste  of  snows,  and  toiled  onward  toward 
Protestant  Geneva.  Many  had  scarcely  clothes  to  cover  tliem  ; 
all  were  feeble  with  starvation.  The  road  was  marked  by  the 
bodies  of  those  that  died  by  the  way.  The  survivors  stagger- 
ed down  the  Swiss  side  of  the  mountains,  pallid  with  hunger 
and  cold ;  some  perished  as  they  approached  the  borders  of  the 
friendly  territory ;  others  Hngered  a  while,  and  expired  in  tlie 
homes  of  the  Swiss.  But  the  people  of  Geneva,  as  they  be- 
held the  melancholy  procession  approaching  their  city,  rushed 
out  in  generous  enthusiasm  to  receive  the  exiles  to  their  arms. 


228  THE    VAUDOIS. 

One-half  the  population  went  forth  on  the  charitable  journey. 
They  contended  with  each  other  which  should  iirst  give  shel- 
ter to  the  poorest  of  the  martyrs,  and  sometimes  bore  them  in 
their  arms  from  the  frontiers  to  their  comfortable  dwellings. 
Geneva,  the  wonderful  city  of  Calvin  and  Beza,  revived  in 
this  period  of  woe  the  unbounded  benevolence  that  had  mark- 
ed the  early  Christians  in  their  conduct  toward  each  other  un- 
der the  persecutions  of  Maximin  and  Galerius.  As  the  exiles 
entered  the  town  they  sung  the  psalm  of  persecuted  Israel, 
"  O  God,  why  hast  thou  cast  us  off  V  in  a  grave,  sad  voice,  and 
breathed  out  a  melancholy  wail  over  the  ruin  of  their  apostol- 
ic Church.C) 

An  aged  man  appeared  among  the  throng  who  came  out 
to  meet  them ;  it  was  Joshua  Janavel,  the  exiled  hero  of  the 
Vaudois.  For  many  years  Janavel  had  lived  a  fugitive  at 
Geneva.  Yet  the  fame  of  his  wonderful  exploits  had  once 
filled  all  Europe,  and  he  still  kept  watch  over  the  destiny  of 
his  native  land.  Had  Janavel's  advice  been  followed,  the 
Yaudois  believed  that  their  country  might  yet  have  been  free ; 
had  his  strong  arm  not  been  palsied  by  age,  there  would  yet 
remain  a  hope  of  its  deliverance.  In  the  wild  wars  that  fol- 
lowed the  massacre  of  1655,  when  the  Marquis  of  Pianessa 
was  ravaging  the  valleys,  Janavel  became  the  leader  of  a  band 
of  heroes.  Born  on  the  mountains,  he  crept  through  their 
passes  and  sprung  from  cliff  to  cliff  at  the  head  of  his  pious 
company,  and  waged  a  holy  but  relentless  warfare  with  the 
murderous  assailants.(^)  With  only  six  soldiers  he  surprised 
in  a  narrow  pass  a  squadron  of  five  hundred,  and  drove  them 
from  the  hills.  The  next  day,  with  seventeen  men,  he  hid 
among  rocks ;  the  enemy  approached  in  force,  and  pressed  into 
the  ambuscade ;  the  crags  were  rolled  upon  them ;  musket- 
balls  rained  from  every  cliff ;  and  as  they  fled,  astonished,  to 
the  valley,  the  mountaineers,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock  and 


(')  The  music  of  the  Vandois  is  said  to  be  sad,  plaintive,  aud  in  a  minor 
tone,  as  if  the  reflection  of  their  life  aud  persecution.  Gilly,  Researches, 
p.  221. 

(^)  For  anecdotes  of  Janavel  see  Gilly,  Narrative,  p.  194  et  seq. 


JANAVEL.  229 

hiding  behind  the  woodlands,  pursued  them  with  fatal  aim. 
The  Marquis  of  Pianessa,  tlie  chief  of  the  propaganda  at  Tu- 
rin, sent  a  still  larger  army  against  Janavel ;  he  was  shut  up 
against  the  front  of  a  tall  cliff ;  and  the  Vaudois,  with  their 
backs  to  the  rock,  met  the  advancing  foe.  The  popish  army 
melted  away  like  snow  before  them ;  the  Christians  charged 
upon  them  with  a  cry  of  faith ;  and  again  the  enemy  were 
broken,  with  dreadful  loss. 

Ten  thousand  men  were  next  marched  against  the  patriots. 
Meantime  their  commander,  the  Marquis  of  Pianessa,  an  ex- 
cellent example  of  chivalry  and  feudalism,  a  bright  ornament 
of  his  church  and  court,  wrote  as  follows  to  the  Christian 
leader :  "To  Captain  Janavel, — Your  wife  and  daughter  are 
in  my  power.  If  you  do  not  submit,  they  shall  be  burned 
alive."  Janavel  replied,  "  You  can  destroy  their  bodies ;  you 
can  not  harm  their  beloved  souls."(')  The  wild  war  raged 
all  along  the  mountains.  Janavel,  and  his  famous  associate, 
Jahier,  beat  back  the  great  army  of  Pianessa,  and  avenged  its 
terrible  atrocities.  Anions;  those  of  the  invaders  most  o^uiltv 
of  indescribable  enormities  was  a  band  of  eight  hundred  Ii-ish 
Catholics.  They  had  rejoiced  to  crush  the  heads  of  Protest- 
ant infants  against  the  rocks,  to  hack  in  pieces  gentle  matrons 
and  aged  men,  to  fill  blazing  ovens  with  unresisting  saints. 
Janavel  now  came  upon  them  with  a  dreadful  retribution. 
He  sui^prised  them  in  their  barracks,  and  put  them  all  to  death. 
But  Janavel  was  at  last  shot  through  the  body.  He  recovered, 
and  went,  in  1680,  an  exile  to  Geneva ;  and  here  he  lived  to 
aid  in  that  remarkable  expedition  by  which  the  Vaudois  were 
once  more  restored  to  their  vallevs  and  their  homes. 

While  all  Protestant  Europe  w^as  lamenting  the  ruin  of  its 
oldest  Church,  suddenly  there  passed  before  the  eyes  of  men  a 
wonderful  achievement  —  a  spectacle  of  heroism  and  daring 
scarcely  rivaled  at  Marathon  or  Leuctra.(^)     It  was  named  by 


C)  Muston,  part  ii.,  ch.  viii.,  p.  .363,  vol.  i. 

(°)  Glorious  Recovery,  trans,  from  Henry  Arnand's  account  of  his  expe- 
dition ;  Gilly,  Excur.,  p.  174-183  ;  Muston,  ii.,  p.  33.  The  journals  of  the 
jjeriod  also  notice  the  returu. 


230  THE   VAUDOIS. 

the  exulting  Yaiidois  "  The  Glorious  Return."  The  exiles  at 
Geneva,  tempted  by  various  friendly  invitations  to  emigrate 
to  Protestant  lands,  still  fondly  lingered  in  the  neighborhood 
of  their  native  mountains.  No  promises  of  ease  and  opulence, 
no  prospect  of  a  foreign  home,  could  allure  them  from  the  dis- 
tant view  of  Mont  Cenis  and  the  snow-clad  Alps.  At  length 
the  enthusiastic  people,  inspired  by  the  brave  spirit  of  the  aged 
Janavel,  and  their  priest  and  warrior,  Heniy  Arnaud,  began  to 
entertain  the  design  of  invading  once  more  their  ancient  val- 
leys—  of  reviving  their  apostolic  Church.  Yet  never  was  a 
project  apparently  more  hopeless.  The  Duke  of  Savoy,  sus- 
pecting their  design,  had  extended  a  chain  of  garrisons  around 
all  the  mountain  passes.  The  valleys  were  held  by  large  ar- 
mies of  French  and  Savoyards,  and  a  hostile  population  filled 
all  the  towns  and  hamlets  in  Perouse,  Lucerna,  and  San  Mar- 
tino.  If  the  exiles  attempted  to  cross  the  Alps,  they  must  cut 
their  way  through  a  succession  of  foes.  When  they  reached 
the  Germanasca  and  the  Pelice,  they  would  encounter  the  uni- 
ted forces  of  Italy  and  France. 

But  Janavel  inspired  them  with  his  own  boundless  resolu- 
tion. An  expedition  was  prepared  of  nearly  one  thousand 
men  ;  and  on  the  night  of  the  16th  of  August,  1689,  a  fleet  of 
boats  bore  the  adventurers  over  the  peaceful  waters  of  Lake 
Leman  to  the  borders  of  Savoy.  As  they  assembled  in  the 
forest  of  Nyon  the  aged  warrior  directed  them  all  to  kneel  in 
fervent  prayer.  He  could  not  go  with  them;  he  bid  them 
choose,  under  the  guidance  of  Heaven,  a  j'ounger  leader.  It 
seems  that  a  Captain  Turrel  was  elected  their  commander.(') 
The  whole  army  was  divided  into  nineteen  companies ;  and 
the  Yaudois  began  their  swift  march  for  the  passes  of  the 
Alps.  They  ev^ided  or  dissipated  the  hostile  garrisons,  and 
swept  rapidly  up  that  memorable  road  by  which  Hannibal  had 
crossed  the  unknown  mountains.  But  the  Yaudois  were  no 
strangers  to  the  icy  scene.  They  chose  the  most  difficult  paths 
to  avoid  the  hostile  soldiers,  clambered  from  glacier  to  glacier, 
crept  along  the  brink  of  the  fearful  precipice,  dispersed  the 

(')  Muston,  ii.,  p.  38  et  seq. 


''THE   GLOEIOUS  EETUBK"  231 

enemy  by  sudden  attacks,  and  reached  at  length  the  pass  of 
Mont  Cenis.  Here  they  captured  the  baggage  of  a  Roman 
cardinal  who  was  on  his  way  to  Rome.(')  Slowly  and  with 
unexampled  endurance  they  climbed  Mont  Cenis,  and,  as  they 
reached  the  top,  sunk,  incapable  of  motion,  on  the  frozen  snow. 
Their  path  now  lay  among  the  wildest  and  most  inaccessi- 
ble portions  of  the  Alps.  With  scanty  food,  but  frequent 
prayers,  they  pressed  over  the  snows  toward  their  native  val- 
leys. Soon  their  clarions  sounded  clearly  from  the  summit 
of  Tourliers,  as  they  prepared  to  descend  into  the  well-known 
scene  and  encounter  the  first  shock  of  battle. 

Eight  hundred  now  remained  —  vigorous,  agile,  fearless  — 
many  of  them  natives  of  Lucerna,  San  Martino,  or  Angrogna. 
They  descended  the  snowy  hills  in  a  narrow  line,  wading 
through  deep  ravines.  Their  food  was  only  a  few  chestnuts 
and  half -frozen  water ;  their  dress  was  torn  and  comfortless. 
They  slept  on  wintry  crags,  but  they  held  fast  to  their  arms 
and  their  scanty  powder ;  and  their  pastor  and  chief,  Henry 
Arnaud,  led  them  in  fervent  prayer,  every  morning  and  even- 
ing, as  they  clambered  down  tlie  Alps.  At  length  they  ap- 
proached their  beloved  valleys ;  but  between  lay  the  ravine  of 
the  Dora,  crossed  by  a  single  bridge.  Around  was  stationed  a 
force  of  two  thousand  French,  guarding  the  pass  of  Salber- 
trans.  The  eight  hundred  saw  that  they  must  fight  their  way 
across.^ )  It  was  a  dim  and  misty  night,  and  as  they  pressed 
on  the  Catholic  settlers  mocked  them  with  evil  tidings.  When 
they  asked  them  for  provisions,  they  replied,  "  Go  on,  you 
will  soon  have  no  need  of  food."  They  knelt  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then  began  the  attack.  Some  one  cried  out, "  The 
bridge  is  won !"  The  Yaudois  rushed  upon  their  enemy  ;  the 
French,  terrified  by  their  energy,  abandoned  their  station  in 
sudden  panic ;  and  the  eight  hundred  pressed  over  the  bridge 
and  cut  down  the  enemy  as  they  fled.  I^^I'one  were  spared ; 
and  in  the  dark,  bewildering  night  the  French  soldiers  wan- 

(')  Glorious  Recovery ;  Muston,  ii.,  45. 

C)  Muston,  i.,  p.  47,  is  fuller  than  Aruaud,  and  has  used  various  unpub- 
lished letters,  etc. 


232  THE   VAUDOIS. 

dered  among  the  Yaudois,  and  were  shot  or  sabred  without  re- 
sistance. The  moon  now  rose  over  the  Alps,  and  disclosed 
seven  hundred  dead  lying  around  the  dark  ravine;  of  the 
Vaudois  only  twenty-two  had  fallen.  Once  more  they  knelt, 
but  it  was  now  in  thanksgiving ;  they  heaped  together  the 
ammunition  thev  could  not  use,  with  all  the  remains  of  the 
French  camp,  and  applied  a  torch  to  the  pile;  the  explosion 
shook  the  mountains  with  an  unaccustomed  tremor,  and  as 
the  sound  died  away  a  wild  shout  of  Joy  arose  from  the  Yau- 
dois— a  cry  of  "  Glory  to  the  God  of  armies !" 

Worn  with  battle  and  victory,  the  exiles  still  pressed  on 
the  same  night,  often  falling  down  in  sleep,  and  then  rousing 
themselves  to  climb  over  rocks  and  mountains,  until,  as  tlie 
sun  rose  on  the  Sabbath  morning,  and  the  white  peaks  of  the 
Alps  were  tinted  with  a  bright  rose-color,  and  the  wide,  wavy 
landscape  gleamed  before  them,  they  saw  the  fair  pinnacles  of 
their  own  hills  and  the  well-known  valley  of  Pragela.  They 
chanted  a  poetic  prayer  of  thanksgiving  on  the  mountain-tops, 
and  descended  to  their  home.  The  priests  fled  hastily  from 
the  valley ;  the  patriots  tore  the  images  and  the  shrines  from 
their  ancient  churches,  and  celebrated  their  simple  worship 
in  its  accustomed  seats.  For  a  time  all  was  victory.  They 
drove  the  enemy  from  the  Balsille  and  its  impregnable  rocks, 
expelled  the  new  inhabitants  of  Bobi,  burned  hostile  Le  Per- 
rier,  and  supplied  themselves  with  arms  at  the  cost  of  the  foe. 
For  food  they  found  a  resource  in  the  plunder  of  French  con- 
voys, and  in  secret  stores  of  corn  and  nuts  which  they  had 
hidden  in  the  earth  before  their  expulsion.  But  the  enemy 
was  now  chiefly  engaged  in  an  attempt  to  starve  them  on  the 
mountains.  Tlie  Duke  of  Savoy  ordered  the  country  to  be 
desolated ;  the  flocks  and  cattle  were  driven  away  from  the 
open  valleys,  the  fruit-trees  cut  down,  the  harvests  burned 
upon  the  fields,  and  the  magnificent  groves  of  chestnut  and 
walnuts  despoiled  of  tlieir  autumnal  product.  The  poor  Yau- 
dois, clinging  to  tlie  cliffs  and  wandering  upon  the  mountain- 
tops,  still  baffled  the  arms  of  the  enemy ;  but  often  they  had 
only  a  few  roots  to  eat,  and  their  manly  vigor  must  slowly 
melt  away  in  famine  and  fatigue.     Prayer  was  still  their  chief 


THE  BALSILLE.  233 

support,  and  among  their  native  crags  tliey  constantly  lifted 
tlieir  voices  to  Heaven.  For  two  months  they  had  resisted 
the  attack  of  twenty  thousand  men  led  by  the  skillful  Catinat ; 
but  by  October  16th  it  seemed  that  the  entei'prise  must  whol- 
ly fail.  Their  numbers  were  diminished  by  desertions  and 
death ;  many  French  refugees  left  them ;  even  Turrel,  the 
commander,  despairing  of  success,  tied  from  them  secretly. 
Clothed  in  rags,  feeding  upon  roots  and  herbs,  the  feeble  Vau- 
dois  saw  before  them  the  approaching  winter  and  the  swiftly 
increasing  foe.  Their  prayerful  hearts  were  oppressed  with 
an  unaccustomed  dread.  Liberty  of  conscience  seemed  about 
to  depart  forever  from  the  valleys ;  the  Alpine  Church  was 
never  again  to  rise  from  its  desolation.  But  Henry  Arnaud, 
pastor  and  chief,  rose,  in  this  moment  of  danger,  to  heroic 
greatness.  He,  at  least,  would  never  abandon  his  suffering 
country  and  the  falling  cause  of  freedom.  He  prayed,  ex- 
horted, celebrated  the  sacred  feast  in  groves  of  chestnut, 
fought  in  the  front  of  his  followers,  and  was  ready  to  die  for 
their  preservation. (')  In  the  midst  of  his  calamities  he  re- 
membered the  counsels  of  the  aged  Janavel,  who  had  advised 
the  adventurers,  in  a  moment  of  extreme  need,  to  take  refuge 
upon  the  rock  of  Balsille,  and  there  prolong  the  contest  until 
help  should  come  from  above. 

In  a  wild  portion  of  the  valley  of  San  Martino  a  pile  of 
rock  projects  over  an  Alpine  torrent,  surrounded  by  huge 
mountains,  accessible  only  from  the  bed  of  the  stream  below, 
and  rising  on  three  terraces  against  the  sides  of  its  lofty  peak 
behind.  It  is  called  the  Balsille.  Swelled  by  the  winter 
snows,  a  branch  of  the  Germanasca  sweeps  around  the  singu- 
lar promontory.  A  few  shrubs  cover  its  top;  a  little  earth 
produces  a  scanty  vegetation.  The  Balsille  stands  like  an 
isolated  column,  yet  on  either  hand  it  is  commanded  by  the 
tall  and  almost  inaccessible  peaks  of  Le  Pis  and  Guinevert. 
But  in  that  wild  and  lofty  region  the  climate  is  severe,  the 
ravines  and  mountains  almost  perpetually  covered  with  snow, 
the  paths  impassable  except  to  the  agile  and  daring  Vaudois. 

(')  Glorious  Recovery,  p.  133  et  seq.,  describes  the  Balsille. 


234  THE   VAUDOIS. 

Secluded  amidst  the  wildest  scenery  of  the  valleys,  the  Bal- 
sille  forms  an  almost  impregnable  fortress:  the  history  of  its 
siege  and  its  defense  is  the  crowning  wonder  of  "  The  Glori- 
ous Return." 

The  exiles  were  now,  October  22d,  1689,  at  Rodoret,  sur- 
rounded by  the  enemy ;  to  reach  the  Balsille  they  must  pass 
through  the  midst  of  their  foes,  over  a  path  that  led  along  the 
brink  of  frightful  precipices,  but  which  they  could  only  trav- 
erse by  night.  They  prayed  long  and  fervently,  and  then  set 
out  in  utter  darkness.  No  moon  nor  stars  guided  them  as 
they  crept  on  their  hands  and  knees  along  the  edge  of  the 
deep  abyss.  To  distinguish  their  guides,  they  marked  them 
with  strips  of  white  cloth  or  pieces  of  phosphoric  wood.(') 
Yet  they  passed  safely,  and  in  the  morning  trembled  with 
affright  as  they  saw  over  what  a  fearful  path  they  had  come. 
When  they  reached  the  Balsille  they  found  only  a  bare  and 
comfortless  rock ;  they  were  forced  to  build  at  once  a  fortress 
and  a  dwelling ;  feeble  and  faint,  they  labored  with  incredible 
toil.  They  cut  down  trees,  gathered  huge  stones,  and  formed 
seventeen  intrenchments,  rising  one  above  the  other,  on  the 
precipitous  rock.  They  dug  deep  ditches,  covered  ways,  and 
casemates  to  secure  their  lines.  On  the  top  of  the  Balsille 
they  built  a  strong  fort  or  castle,  the  centre  of  their  defenses, 
surrounded  by  three  high  walls ;  and,  to  provide  their  liomes 
in  that  wintry  climate,  they  dug  in  the  earth  and  rock  of  the 
terraces  eighty  caves  or  chambers,  where  they  slept  in  inno- 
cence more  cahnly,  perhaps,  than  pope  or  priest. 

When  they  reached  the  rock  they  had  no  food  for  the  next 
day,  and  lived  upon  a  few  vegetables  they  gathered  in  the 
neighborhood.  At  length  they  repaired  a  dismantled  mill, 
and  were  enabled  to  bake  bread.  With  joy  and  thankful 
hearts  they  discovered  that  the  harvests  of  the  last  year  lay 
buried  beneath  the  snow  in  the  valley  of  Pi*al,  and  reaped 
them  through  the  winter  by  digging  in  the  icy  covering.  But 
they  were  not  suffered  to  remain  undisturbed.     On  the  29th 


(')  Glorious  Recovery,  p.  139.     Muston  lias  the  narrative  of  a  Vaudoia 
officer — it  adds  somethini;. 


WINTER  ON  THE  BALSILLE.  235 

of  October  they  saw  the  French  troops  approaching  them  on 
all  sides;  some  climbed  the  precipitous  peaks  of  Guinevert 
and  Col  du  Pis ;  others  approached  the  base  of  the  fortified 
rock ;  a  vigorous  attack  was  made  on  the  intrenchments ;  the 
shai-p  fire  of  the  Yaudois  marksmen  scattered  the  enemy  with 
great  loss.  The  Alpine  winter  now  came  on.  The  French 
troops  were  driven  from  the  mountains,  with  frozen  limbs 
and  fearful  suffering,  by  the  rigorous  season  ;  the  deep  snows 
of  the  valleys  prevented  all  military  operations ;  and  the  ene- 
my withdrew,  promising  to  return  in  the  spring.  (') 

Winter  passed  on  in  peace  with  the  garrison  of  Balsille. 
Alone  in  the  midst  of  a  thousand  dangers,  shielded  only  by 
the  icy  snows,  the  Alpine  Church  lived  on  its  lonely  rock.  In 
his  singular  castle  and  temple  Henry  Arnaud  still  maintained 
the  ancient  ritual  of  the  valleys ;  twice  on  each  Sabbath  he 
preached  to  an  attentive  assembly ;  morning  and  evening  the 
voice  of  prayer  and  praise  ascended  to  the  peaks  of  Guinevert, 
The  garrison  was  reduced  to  about  four  hundred,  all  native 
Yaudois,  and  their  chief  solace  in  their  painful  life  was  to  join 
in  the  hymns  and  prayers  they  had  learned  from  their  moth- 
ers in  their  childhood. C)  Yet  they  would  not  consent  to  re- 
main unemployed.  Frequent  expeditions  were  sent  out  to 
levy  contributions  on  the  popish  villagers,  to  climb  from  crag 
to  crag  along  the  secure  mountains  and  descend  in  sudden 
forays  into  the  well-known  valleys.  They  penetrated  far 
down  the  banks  of  the  Germanasca,  and  disturbed  the  repose 
of  Lucerna  and  Angrogna.  Meantime  no  help  came  from 
abroad ;  the  expeditions  formed  in  Switzerland  for  their  re- 
lief were  intercepted  by  the  enemy ;  and,  as  the  spring  drew 
on,  Arnaud  and  his  pious  company  prepared  to  engage  once 
more  the  united  armies  of  France  and  Savoy. 

In  April  the  Marquis  De  Pareilles  sent  them  offers  of  lib- 
eral terms  if  they  would  surrender.  A  council  was  held  on 
the  rocks,  and  a  unanimous  refusal  was  decided  npon.  Ar- 
naud wrote  to  the  marquis  a  defense  of  his  countrymen ;  he 
said  they  had  been  seated  from  time  immemorial  in  their  val- 

(')  Glorious  Recovery,  p.  143.  (")  Id.,  p.  146. 


236  THE    VAUDOIS. 

leys;  that  tliey  had  paid  every  impost,  performed  all  the 
duties  of  good  subjects ;  that  they  had  led  lives  of  singular 
purity ;  that  they  fought  oxAy  for  self-preservation.(')  On 
the  last  day  of  the  month,  a  Sabbath  morning,  as  Arnaud  was 
preaching  to  his  garrison,  the  troops  of  Catinat  were  seen  clos- 
ing around  the  solitary  fortress.  With  a  rare  endurance, 
scarcely  sui^passed  by  the  native  Yaudois,  the  French  and 
Savoyards  had  cut  their  way  through  the  deep  snows  of  the 
ravines  and  climbed  the  frightful  precipices.  A  whole  regi- 
ment, amidst  blinding  sleet  and  icy  winds,  had  fixed  them- 
selves on  the  pinnacle  of  Guinevert,  overlooking  the  Balsille. 
Another  appeared  on  the  top  of  Le  Pis,  and  opened  a  distant 
fire  on  the  fort.  In  the  vallev  in  front  Catinat  ordered  a 
chosen  band  of  five  hundred  men  to  climb  the  steep  ascent 
of  the  Balsille,  and  charge  the  rude  intrenchments  of  the  Yau- 
dois.Q  The  French  attacked  with  singular  gallantry ;  they 
strove  to  tear  away  the  felled  trees  behind  which  their  enemy 
was  sheltered,  and  climbed  the  rude  wall  of  stone ;  but  a  rain 
of  balls  came  from  the  Yaudois,  a  shower  of  rocks  rolled  upon 
the  assailants ;  their  ranks  were  soon  broken,  and  they  fled 
down  the  hill.  Great  numbers  were  slain ;  the  Yaudois  leap- 
ed from  their  works,  and  destroyed  nearly  all  the  detachment. 
Its  commander.  Colonel  De  Parat,  was  wounded  and  taken 
prisoner.  The  next  day  the  Yaudois  cut  off  the  heads  of  their 
fallen. foes  and  planted  them  along  the  line  of  their  first  pali- 
sade.    It  was  a  symbol  of  unchanging  defiance. 

Arnaud  defends  with  vigor  the  severe  policy  he  had  adopt- 
ed. He  killed  the  prisoners,  he  says,  because  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  hold  them ;  he  spared  every  non-combatant,  and  never 
retaliated  the  cruelties  endured  by  his  countrymen.  Once 
more,  May  10th,  the  French  army,  under  De  Feuqui^res,  gath- 
ered around  the  Balsille.  They  numbered  about  thirteen 
thousand  men.  A  battery  of  cannon  had  been  placed,  with 
great  labor,  on  the  side  of  Guinevert ;  the  hills  around  were 
filled  with  troops,  and  the  rock  itself  was  surrounded  on  ev- 

(')  Glorious  Recovery,  p.  159,  gives  the  number  of  the  enemy  as  22,000. 
C)  Id.,  p.  167. 


THE  VAUDOIS  FLY.  237 

eiy  side  by  the  hostile  forces.  The  French  commander  made 
a  last  effort  to  persuade  the  Yaudois  to  submit. (')  He  offered 
each  man  live  hundred  louis  and  a  free  passage  from  the  coun- 
try ;  but  his  great  bribes  were  rejected,  and  the  garrison  de- 
termined to  persist  in  a  vain  resistance.  With  prayers  and 
holy  songs  they  prepared  for  the  final  contest.  In  a  first 
attack  the  French  were  repulsed  with  signal  loss.  But  at 
length  the  batteries  began  to  play  on  the  works  of  the  Vau- 
dois,  and  their  feeble  fortifications  crumbled  to  the  earth. 
The  enemy  slowly  made  their  way  up  the  height ;  the  Yau- 
dois were  even  driven  from  the  castle,  and  fled  to  a  higher 
part  of  the  rock.  Night  fell,  and  the  French  commander 
ceased  his  assault,  resolved  to  capture  the  whole  garrison  in 
the  morning. 

Clustered  like  hunted  chamois  on  the  pinnacles  of  the  rock, 
the  Yaudois  now  sought  eagerly  for  some  method  of  escape.^ ) 
But  as  yet  there  seemed  no  prospect  of  deliverance.  The  en- 
emy lay  encamped  on  every  side  of  the  Balsille ;  his  watch-fires 
dispelled  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  sentinels,  posted  thick- 
ly around,  closed  up  every  avenue  of  flight.  Arnaud  and  his 
brave  companions  were  guarded  by  a  circle  of  foes  who  had 
resolved  that  no  Yaudois  should  be  left  alive  upon  the  mount- 
ains. But,  as  the  night  advanced,  a  friendly  mist,  sent  in  an- 
swer to  their  prayers,  slowly  rose  from  the  deep  glens  and 
covered  the  whole  valley  with  a  humid  veil.  The  agile 
mountaineers,  led  by  a  skillful  guide,  crept  down  the  slippery 
rocks,  climbed  in  single  file  over  the  deep  chasms  of  the  Ger- 
manasca,  and  reached  the  base  of  Guinevert.  Here  they  cut 
steps  in  the  hardened  snow,  and,  with  terrible  suffering,  drag- 
ged themselves  on  their  hands  and  knees  up  the  steep  declivi- 
ties, until  at  length  they  stood  on  a  wide  glacier,  far  above  the 
reach  of  the  enemy.  A  clamor  of  thanksgiving  arose  from 
the  little  company  as  they  felt  once  more  that  they  were  free. 
The  morning  broke.  The  French  spnmg  up  the  hill  to  seize 
their  certain  prey  ;  they  found  only  the  bare  rock,  the  empty 

(^)  Glorious  Recovery,  p.  175.     The  French  re-appear  May  10th. 
O  Id.,  p.  179. 


238  THE   VAUDOIS. 

castle,  and  hastened,  in  tlieir  rage,  to  follow  the  Yaudois  along 
their  mountain-path.(') 

Here,  however,  they  were  easily  eluded  by  their  active  foe. 
The  Vaudois  kept  upon  the  loftiest  of  the  mountains,  feeding 
on  the  foliage  of  the  lir- trees  and  drinking  the  half -melted 
snow.     Sometimes  they  leaped  down  in  fierce  forays  upon  the 
fertile  valleys ;  often  they  shot  down  the  invaders  from  some 
lofty  crag,  or  swept  away  the  flocks  of  the  Savoyard  settlers. 
Still  they  hovered  fondly  over  their  native  scenes,  and  linger- 
ed, with  scarcely  a  hope  in  the  future,  above  the  torrents  and 
the  crags  they  had  loved  in  youth.     To  their  simple  and  ten- 
der hearts  these  last  arduous  days  must  have  seemed  the  sad- 
dest and  most  cheerless  of  all.    From  their  post  on  the  mount- 
ains of  Angrogna  they  might  look  down  into  the  fairest  of 
the  Italian  vales.    They  saw  the  softly  swelling  hills  encircle 
the  fertile  fields ;  the  laughing  tori-ent ;  the  budding  groves 
of  mulberry  and  chestnut ;   the  grateful  gardens  around  their 
early  homes  ;  the  silent  churches ;  and  the  blossom  -  covered 
lawns.     But  all  these  they  were  to  enjoy  no  more.     An  act- 
ive foe  pursued  them  from  peak  to  peak,  and  they  must  soon 
fly  to  their  most  secret  caves.  (") 

But  in  a  moment  all  was  changed,  and  the  Glorious  Return 
was  accomplished  by  a  sudden  revolution.  On  the  21st  of 
May,  1690,  as  Arnaud  and  his  heroes  lingered  around  Angro- 
gna, they  learned  that  the  Duke  of  Savoy  had  joined  the  alli- 
ance of  England  and  Holland  against  France.  The  duke  now 
needed  the  aid  of  all  his  subjects,  and  the  heroic  valor  of  the 
Vaudois  showed  that  he  had  none  so  worthy  as  they.  He 
sent  a  messenger  to  Arnaud,  inviting  him  to  join  his  service, 
wath  his  followers,  and  granting  permission  to  the  Yaudois  to 
return  to  their  native  valleys.(')  Arnaud  obeyed  his  sover- 
eign ;  and  his  soldiers  were  as  active  and  courageous  in  the 
war  against  the  French  as  they  had  ever  been  in  defense  of 


(')  Glorious  Recovery,  p.  180. 

(^)  Muston  abounds  iu  details  of  the  incidents  of  the  expedition,  bnt 
adds  little  to  the  account  of  Arnaud,  ii.,  p.  74. 
C)  Id,  ii.,  p.  76. 


A   GLORIOUS  BETUEX.  239 

their  native  vales.  Soon  the  exiled  Yaudois  heard  of  the  hap- 
py change,  and  came  in  glad  troops  over  the  Alps  to  occupy 
the  homes  of  their  fathers.  No  hope  of  gain  or  prospect  of 
advantage  could  detain  the  gentle  race  in  foreign  lands.  They 
left  their  thriving  plantations  in  Brandenburg,  their  farms  in 
Germany,  or  their  factories  in  England,  and  with  psahns  of 
triumph  hastened  to  revive  their  apostolic  Church  in  its  ancient 
seat.  Lncerna,  San  Martino,  and  Perouse  were  again  tilled 
with  a  rejoicing  people ;  and  the  lovely  landscapes  of  the  sa- 
cred vales  shone  in  new  beauty,  the  temples  of  an  untarnished 
faith. 

Such  was  the  Glorious  Return.  But  for  the  valor  of  the 
eight  hundred,  the  wisdom  and  piety  of  Henry  Arnaud,  and 
the  counsels  of  the  aged  Janavel,  the  Yaudois  might  still  have 
wandered  in  foreign  lands,  and  their  lovely  vales  have  remain- 
ed in  the  possession  of  strangers.  But  they  were  now  firmly 
seated  in  their  ancient  home,  never  to  be  driven  from  it  again. 
The  Jesuits  and  the  Popes  still  plotted  their  ruin  ;  and  when 
the  war  was  over  Yictor  Amadeus,  with  his  usual  bad  faith, 
revived  the  persecution  in  the  valleys.  In  1698,  a  Jesuit  and 
a  number  of  monks  visited  all  the  vales,  and  made  their  report 
to  the  Pope.(')  In  consequence,  the  duke  issued  a  decree  ex- 
pelling all  the  French  Protestants  from  the  country,  and  for- 
bidding the  Yaudois  from  having  any  intercourse,  on  matters 
of  religion,  with  the  subjects  of  Louis  XIY.  Three  thousand 
persons  were  driven  from  the  valleys  by  this  cruel  edict.  The 
various  disabilities  now  imposed  upon  the  Yaudois  served  to 
render  their  lives  painful,  and  expose  them  to  the  penalties  of 
the  hostile  courts.  They  were  forbidden  to  exercise  certain 
professions,  to  purchase  property  beyond  certain  limits,  to  set- 
tle out  of  their  valleys  even  for  trade,  to  oppose  the  conversion 
of  their  children  to  Romanism,  or  to  make  proselytes  them- 
selves. They  were  held  in  a  kind  of  bondage,  and  treated  as 
an  inferior  race.  It  was  a  common  practice  with  the  priests 
of  Turin  to  carry  off  the  children  of  the  Yaudois  and  educate 
them  in  the  Romish  faith.     In  1730,  severe  instructions  were 

C)  Muston,  ii.,  p.  109. 


2t1:0  the  vaudois. 

issued  against  the  people  of  the  valleys;  and  throughout  the 
eighteenth  century  the  Church  of  Rome  labored  by  every  art 
to  extirpate  its  rival  church  upon  the  Alps.  The  Jesuits  re- 
newed their  activity  ;  the  Yaudois  were  often  imprisoned,  and 
their  pastors  ill-treated.  The  jealous  Popes  looked  with  su- 
perstitious dread  upon  the  gentle  moderators  of  the  blooming 
valleys. 

Nor  was  this  without  reason ;  for  as  the  age  advanced  in 
liberality  the  Alpine  Church  became  to  Italy  an  example  and 
a  teacher.  From  Pra  del  Tor  had  descended,  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  a  band  of  Vaudois  missionaries  ;  in  the  eighteenth 
century  it  was  still  the  centre  of  advancing  thought.  With- 
in the  circle  of  the  Alps  the  Church  flourished  with  singular 
vigor.  Persecution  failed  to  check  its  growth ;  the  churches 
multiplied ;  the  schools  increased ;  the  people  of  the  valleys 
were  better  educated  than  those  of  Turin  or  Rome.  Poor, 
feeble,  an  isolated  and  hated  race,  shut  out  from  the  common 
privileges  of  their  fellow-subjects,  from  colleges,  schools,  hos- 
pitals, and  the  liberal  professions,  the  Yaudois  were  still  a 
power  whose  influence  was  often  felt  where  it  was  not  seen. 
The  people  of  Turin  saw  constantly  before  them  the  spectacle 
of  a  Church  that  never  persecuted  nor  reV' iled ;  of  a  race  that 
steadily  advanced  in  moral  and  intellectual  vigor  ;  of  a  nation 
of  heroes  who  had  ever  defended  libertv  of  conscience  when 
all  Italy  besides  had  bowed  in  servitude  to  Rome.  The  Yau- 
dois grew  popular  with  the  scholars  of  Sardinia,  with  the  peo- 
ple, and  even  with  the  court.  They  were  still  oppressed  by 
unjust  laws ;  yet  toward  the  close  of  the  century  a  Yaudois 
Church  had  sprung  up  at  Turin,  and  the  liberal  ideas  of  the 
valleys  were  penetrating  the  North  of  Italy.  The  moderators 
of  the  Alps  became  the  leaders  of  an  intellectual  movement 
that  was  destined  to  spread  from  Balsille  to  Tarento. 

Yet  the  only  period  of  real  freedom  the  Yaudois  had  ever 
known  since  the  papal  usurpations  sprung  from  the  conquests 
of  the  first  Napoleon.C)  The  impulsive  hero  was  touched  by 
their  history,  listened  to  their  complaints,  and  granted  them 

(')  Mustou,  ii.,  p.  303  et  seq. 


NEW  PEESECUTIOXS.  241 

all  they  required.  For  the  first  time,  perhaps,  since  the  days 
of  Hildebrand,  a  perfect  religious  freedom  prevailed  in  the 
valleys,  and  the  iron  tyranny  of  Kome  and  the  Jesuits  was 
crushed  by  the  offspring  of  revolutionary  France.  A  centu- 
ry before,  Louis  XIV.  had  nearly  secured  the  destruction  of 
the  Alpine  Church ;  in  1800  it  sprung  up  into  new  vigor  un- 
der the  shelter  of  the  French  arms.  The  pastors  of  the  val- 
leys returned  ^Napoleon's  favors  with  sincere  gratitude,  and 
lamented  his  final  defeat  as  that  of  a  friend.  It  is  probable 
that  the  unsparing  conqueror  had  no  more  truthful  admirers 
than  the  pure  and  lofty  spirits  whom  he  had  set  free  upon 
their  mountains. 

With  the  restoration  of  1814-'15,  Victor  Emanuel  IV. 
came  to  the  throne  of  Sardinia,  and  the  Vaudois  once  more 
sunk  to  the  condition  of  a  subjugated  race,  alien  and  oppress- 
ed. They  were  known  to  be  advocates  of  freedom  and  ad- 
vance; the  Pope  and  the  Jesuits  again  ruled  at  Turin;  the 
Church  and  State  again  united  to  destroy  the  Church  of  the 
mountains.(')  From  1814  to  1848  the  Vaudois  suffered  indig- 
nities and  deprivations  scarcely  sui-passed  in  the  earlier  perse- 
cutions. All  the  ancient  oppressive  laws  were  revived.  They 
were  forbidden  to  hold  any  civil  oflice,  to  pursue  their  labors 
on  Catholic  festivals,  to  hold  land  beyond  a  certain  limit,  to 
make  proselytes,  or  build  new  churches  except  in  the  least 
favorable  locations,  to  marry  into  papist  families,  or  to  give, 
sell,  or  lend  their  Bibles  to  Catholics.  Komish  missions  were 
established  in  their  midst,  and  a  convent  and  a  church  were 
built  at  La  Tour  to  complete  the  conversion  of  the  people. 
Wlien  Dr.  Gilly  visited  the  valleys  in  1822  he  was  struck  by 
the  beauty  of  their  landscape,  the  simplicity  and  purity  of  the 
people :  he  was  touched  and  grieved  to  find  that  they  still  la- 
bored under  a  rule  of  persecution ;  and  that  liberty  of  con- 
science, for  which  they  had  ever  sighed,  was  still  denied  them 
by  unforgiving  Rome. 

But  the  Church  of  the  Alps  was  now  to  rise  from  its  deso- 
lation, and  to  shine  out  with  new  lustre  in  tiie  eyes  of  all  Eu- 

(')  Muston,  ii.,  p.  349. 

16 


242  THE   VAUDOIS. 

rope.  The  free  principles  it  had  always  inculcated,  the  liber- 
ty of  conscience  it  had  c\cr  defended,  were  become  the  ruling 
ideas  of  every  cultivated  Italian,  Turin  and  Sardinia  had 
learned  to  look  with  wonder,  admiration,  and  remorse  upon 
the  lovely  valleys  they  had  so  often  desolated,  and  the  inno- 
cent people  they  had  so  constantly  tortured  and  oppressed. 
The  Sardinian  king,  Charles  Albert,  stood  at  the  head  of  the 
Italian  reformers.  He  was  resolved  to  give  freedom  to  the 
Yaudois ;  to  atone,  if  possible,  for  the  crimes  of  his  ancestors ; 
to  make  some  faint  return  to  the  people  of  the  valleys  for 
their  long  lesson  of  patience,  resignation,  and  truth.  Amidst 
the  acclamations  of  his  subjects,  he  prepared  (1847)  to  extend 
freedom  of  conscience  to  the  churches  of  the  Alps.  A  patri- 
otic excitement  arose  in  their  favor,  A  petition  was  drawn 
up  at  Turin  urging  the  king  to  enfranchise  the  Vaudois  and 
the  Jews.  Its  lirst  signer  was  the  poet,  artist,  and  statesman, 
the  Marquis  D'Azeglio ;  and  his  name  was  followed  by  a  long 
list  of  professors,  lawyers,  physicians,  and  even  liberal  ecclesi- 
astics and  priests.  Cheers  were  given  for  the  Yaudois  at  pub- 
lic dinners  in  Pignerol  and  Turin,  and  all  Piedmont  wept  over 
their  history  and  rejoiced  in  their  approaching  triumph.  On 
the  17th  of  February,  1848,  the  royal  decree  was  issued  giving 
freedom  to  the  valleys.(') 

It  was  received  by  the  simple  and  generous  Yaudois  with 
a  limitless  gratitude.  A  thrill  of  joy  ran  over  the  beautiful 
vales,  and  Lucerna,  San  Martino,  and  Perouse  resounded  with 
hymns  of  thanksgiving  upon  the  return  of  that  stable  freedom 
wdiich  had  been  ravished  from  them  eight  centuries  ago.  In 
every  village  there  were  processions  of  the  young,  with  ban- 
ners and  patriotic  songs ;  the  blue  colors  of  renewed  Italy 
shone  on  every  breast ;  the  gentle  race  forgot  aU  their  inju- 
ries aifd  their  woes,  to  mingle  freely  with  their  Romish  breth- 
ren, and  to  celebrate  their  victory  in  unbounded  love.  At 
night  the  wonderful  scenery  of  the  valleys  was  set  off  by  a 
general  illumination,  Pignerol  glittered  with  light ;  St,  John 
and  La  Tour  shone  at  the  opening  of  the  defiles ;  far  up,  as- 

(')  Muston,  ii.,  j).  391  et  seq. 


TURIN  DOES  HONOR   TO  TEE   VAUDOIS.  243 

cending  toward  the  Alps,  every  crag  and  cliff  had  its  bonfire, 
and  the  gleam  of  a  thousand  lights  startled  the  wild  mount- 
ains, and  flashed  in  caves  and  ravines  where  Janavel  and  Hen- 
ry Arnaud  had  once  hid  in  perpetual  gloom.  The  snow-clad 
peaks  and  the  icy  torrents  glowed  in  the  illumination  of  free- 
dom. But  a  still  more  remarkable  spectacle  was  witnessed  at 
Turin.  There  for  three  centuries  the  Jesuits  had  labored  and 
waited  for  the  extermination  of  the  Yaudois.  In  the  public 
square,  amidst  its  splendid  palaces,  had  died  a  long  succession 
of  martyrs,  the  victims  of  its  priests  and  kings.  In  its  dread- 
ful dungeons,  noisome  with  disease,  thousands  of  the  people 
of  the  valleys  had  pined  and  wasted  away.  What  unuttered 
woes  had  been  Ijorne  in  its  prisons  for  freedom's  sake  no 
tongue  could  tell,  no  fancy  picture.  Its  convents  had  been 
filled  with  the  stolen  children  of  the  Yaudois ;  its  stony  walls 
had  heard  the  vain  complaints  of  parents  and  brothers  with- 
out relenting.  From  its  gates  had  issued  forth  those  dread- 
ful crusades,  whose  hosts  of  brigands,  soldiers,  priests.  Inquisi- 
tors were  so  often  let  loose  upon  the  valleys  to  do  the  work 
of  fiends.  Fi'om  Turin  had  come  the  impalers  of  women,  the 
murderers  of  children ;  the  Spaniards,  who  flung  old  men  over 
beetling  crags ;  the  Irish,  who  surpassed  even  the  enormities 
of  the  Italians ;  the  Jesuits  and  Franciscans,  who  urged  for- 
ward the  labor  of  destruction ;  the  nobles  and  princes,  the 
pillars  of  chivalry,  who  looked  on  and  applauded  crimes  for 
which  Dante  could  have  found  no  fitting  punishment  amidst 
the  deepest  horrors  of  his  pit. 

And  now  all  Turin,  repentant  and  humble,  resolved  to  do 
honor  to  the  Alpine  Church.  A  day  of  rejoicing  had  been 
appointed  for  liberated  Piedmont,  and  a  deputation  from  the 
Yaudois  was  sent  to  the  capital.  As  they  issued  from  the  val- 
leys they  were  saluted  everywhere  with  loud  vi/vas  for  "  our 
Yaudois  brothers,"  for  "  liberty  of  conscience."(")  The  citi- 
zens of  Turin  received  them  with  unbounded  hospitality,  and 
the  gentle  Yaudois  took  part  in  the  grand  procession :  they 
were  preceded  by  a  group  of  young  girls,  clothed  in  white, 

(')  Muston,  ii.,  p.  392. 


2-i4  THE   VAUDOIS. 

adorned  with  blue  girdles,  and  each  bearing  a  little  banner. 
Six  hundred  persons  composed  tlie  Yaudois  deputation,  the 
most  noted  in  the  stately  pageant.  To  them,  as  a  mark  of 
especial  honor,  was  assigned  the  Urst  place  at  the  head  of 
the  procession  as  it  moved  through  the  streets  of  Turin. 
The  persecuted  of  a  thousand  years  walked  the  leaders  of 
Italian  freemen.  The  city  rang  with  cheers  for  the  Vau- 
dois ;  flowers  were  showered  upon  them  from  the  balconies ; 
men  rushed  from  the  crowd  to  salute,  to  embrace  the  patient 
mountaineers ;  even  liberal  priests  cheered  them  as  they  went 
by ;  the  women  of  Turin  smiled  upon  the  daughters  of  the 
valleys.  Yet,  as  the  Yaudois  moved  through  the  squares  hal- 
lowed by  the  torments  of  their  early  martyrs,  beside  the  pris- 
ons where  their  ancestors  had  died  by  thousands,  the  palaces 
where  Jesuits  and  princes  had  often  planned  their  total  extir- 
pation, they  were  amazed  at  the  startling  contrast,  and  listen- 
ed with  grateful  hearts  to  the  glad  congratulations  of  the  peo- 
ple of  Turin. (')  They  breathed  out  a  silent  thanksgiving,  and 
prayed  that  the  blessing  of  Heaven  might  ever  rest  uj)on  tlieir 
pleasant  native  land. 

Their  modest  prayers  have  been  fulfilled.  The  festival  of 
their  liberation  was  followed  by  a  wave  of  revolution  that 
swept  over  all  Europe.  The  Jesuits  and  the  propaganda  were 
banished  from  Turin ;  France  became  suddenly  a  republic ; 
the  Pope  was  exiled  from  Rome,  to  be  i-estored  only  by  the 
French  armies  to  his  ancient  tyranny  ;  and  Italy  was  for  a  mo- 
ment free.  If  for  a  time  the  cloud  of  war  rested  over  the  val- 
leys, yet  the  victories  of  Napoleon  and  the  swift  triumph  of 
Garibaldi  have  given  freedom  to  the  peninsula,  and  safety  to 
the  Alpine  Church.  To-day  Lucerna,  Perouse,  and  San  Mar- 
tino  shine  forth  in  perpetual  beauty.  The  torrents  gleam 
through  the  sweet  vales  of  Angrogna,(°)  and  roar  against  the 
cliffs  of  Balsille.     In  Pra  del  Tor,  the  citadel  of  the  Yaudois 


(^)  Mnston,ii.,  p.  393.  Who  would  have  said,  wrote  a  Vaudeis,  that  we 
would  have  seen  all  this  ? 

(")  Gilly,  Narrative,  p.  138,  describes  the  scenery  of  Augrogna  as  un- 
matched in  Italy  or  Switzerland. 


THE  MODERATOR   TRIUMPHS   OVER   THE  PORE.        24:5 

has  become  a  cultured  field,  and  the  chestnut  groves  where 
Henry  Arnaud  and  his  pious  soldiers  celebrated  their  holy 
rites  are  still  rich  with  abundant  fruit ;  the  landscapes  of  Lu- 
cerna  glow  with  the  soft  products  of  the  Italian  clime  ;  in  the 
wilder  valleys  the  avalanche  leaps  from  the  snow-clad  mount- 
ains, the  chamois  feeds  on  his  icy  pastures,  the  eagle  screams 
around  the  peaks  of  Guinevert.  To-day  the  primitive  Chris- 
tians assemble  in  peace  in  churches  that  were  founded  when 
Nero  began  his  persecutions,  or  when  Constantine  gave  rest  to 
the  tormented  world.  The  Yaudois  moderator  gathers  around 
him  his  humble  pastors  in  their  sacred  synods,  as  the  elders  of 
the  Middle  Ages  assembled  at  Pra  del  Tor.  The  schools  of 
the  Yaudois,  from  which  the  Bible  has  never  been  excluded 
since  the  dawn  of  Christianity,  flourish  with  new  vigor ;  their 
colleges  no  longer  hide  in  the  caverns  of  Angrogna.  The 
long  struggle  of  centuries  has  ended,  and  the  gentle  people  of 
the  valleys  have  found  freedom  to  worship  God. 

Thus  the  moderator  of  the  Alps  has  triumphed  over  the 
persecuting  Pope  of  Pome,  and  liberty  of  conscience  reigns 
from  the  valleys  to  the  Sicilian  Straits.  Yet  one  dark  scene 
of  tyranny  still  remains — one  blot  on  the  fair  renown  of  Italy. 
In  the  City  of  Rome  the  Jesuits  and  the  Pope  still  rule.  Still 
they  point  with  menacing  gestures  to  the  people  of  the  val- 
leys ;  still  they  would  snatch  the  Bible  from  their  schools,  and 
crush  their  consciences  with  mediaeval  tyranny.  In  Pome 
alone  persecution  for  religion's  sake  still  continues ;  Pome 
alone,  of  all  European  cities,  cherishes  a  shadow  of  the  Inqui- 
sition,(')  and  still  asserts  its  right  to  govern  the  minds  of  men 
by  brutal  force.  Enthroned  by  foreign  bayonets  over  a  mur- 
muring people,^ )  the  vindictive  Pope  proclaims  his  undying 
hostility  against  the  wise  and  the  good  of  every  land.  But 
should  the  Holy  Father  and  the  society  of  Loyola  turn  their 
eyes  to  the  Yaudois  Alps,  they  may  read  their  doom  graven 

(■)  See  a  decree  of  the  Inquisition  (1841)  directed  against  heresy  in  the 
Papal  States  with  all  its  ancient  severity.  Italy  in  Transition,  j).  460,  Ap- 
pendix, with  other  documents.  The  Syllabus  and  the  Canons  still  defend 
the  use  of  force  in  producing  religious  unity. 

C)  Until  1870. 


246  THE   YAVDOIS. 

on  each  heaven-piercing  peak.  There  may  be  seen  a  spectral 
company  of  the  hallowed  dead  writing  with  sliadowy  lingers 
a  legend  on  the  rocks ;  the  tiny  babe  crushed  beneath  the  sol- 
dier's heel ;  the  fair  mother  hewed  to  pieces  on  the  snow ;  the 
okl  man  of  ninety  burned  to  ashes  on  tlie  fatal  pyre.  They 
write,  "  Whoever  shall  harm  one  of  these  little  ones,  it  were 
better  for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck, 
and  he  were  drowned  in  the  depth  of  the  sea !" 


TEE  EUGUEEOTS. 

The  barbaric  dream  of  cliivalry  proved  singularly  attractive 
to  the  imaginative  people  of  France.  The  strength  and  glory 
of  the  nation  were  wasted  in  endless  wars.  The  same  impulse 
that  leads  the  Comanche  to  butcher  the  Sioux,  or  the  King  of 
the  Guinea  Coast  to  burn  the  villages  of  his  neighbors,  drove 
the  French  kings  and  nobles  to  fierce  inroads  upon  Germa- 
ny and  a  constant  rivalry  with  Spain.  Glory  was  only  to  be 
won  upon  the  battle-field ;  he  who  fought  was  a  noble ;  the 
honest  laborer  was  his  inferior  and  his  slave.  To  murder,  to 
waste,  and  to  destroy  were  the  proper  employments  of  kings 
and  princes ;  while  the  Church  of  Rome  aroused  anew  the 
worst  elements  of  human  nature  by  preaching  a  series  of  ruth- 
less crusades,  and  by  its  example  of  a  general  persecution. (') 

Chivalry,  the  offspring  of  barbarism  and  superstition,  cul- 
minated in  the  person  of  Francis  I.  By  historians  Francis  is 
usually  called  gallant,  but  his  gallantry  consisted  only  in  an  in- 
tense selfishness  and  an  utter  moral  corruption. Q  He  was 
the  scourge  of  France,  the  destroyer  of  his  people ;  and  if,  in 
this  respect,  he  was  no  worse  than  his  contemporaries,  Charles 
y.,  Henry  VHL,  and  the  Popes  of  Eome,  he  was  more  guilty, 
because  more  highly  endowed.  Nature  had  been  singularly 
bountiful  to  the  chief  of  the  house  of  Yalois.  His  form  was 
tall  and  graceful ;  his  mind  had  been  fed  upon  romance  and 
song.     He  was  a  poet,  the   author  of   sweet   and  plaintive 

(')  De  Felice,  Hist.  Protestants  in  France;  D'Aiibign6,  Eeformation  in 
Europe,  book  ii.,  c.  x. ;  Martin,  Hist.  Fran.,  ix.  See  Gassier,  Histoire  de  la 
Chevalerie  Frangaise,  i.,  p.  277,  for  the  cruel  traits  of  chivalry  ;  so,  too,  i.,  p. 
360,  for  the  origin  of  constables  and.  marshals. 

{'^)  For  this  period  Smiles,  The  Huguenots,  and  White,  Massacre  of  St. 
Bartholomew,  may  be  consulted  with  advantage.  Capefigue,  Frauyois  1", 
enlarges  on  "  cet  esprit  chevaleresque,"  etc.,  i.,  p.  209. 


2Jr8  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

verses ;  a  hero,  longing  to  renew  the  exploits  of  Amadis  and 
Charlemagne ;  the  friend  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  the  patron 
of  Clement  Marot.(')  Yet,  with  all  these  softening  impulses 
and  tastes,  Francis  lived  the  life  of  a  savage.  At  home  in 
his  splendid  palace,  the  Louvre,  he  was  plunged  in  the  coarse 
pleasures  of  a  profligate  court ;  abroad  he  rushed  like  a  mad- 
man from  battle-field  to  battle-field,  never  happy  unless  sur- 
rounded by  carnage.  Under  the  rule  of  its  chivalric  king 
France  knew  every  woe  of  which  nations  are  capable.  Whole 
disti-icts  were  desolated  by  the  tax-gatherer,  the  conscription, 
the  invasion  of  the  enemy,  the  hand  of  persecution.  Famine, 
disease,  poverty,  bloodshed,  were  the  gifts  of  Francis  to  his 
people ;  and  while  the  king  and  his  mistresses  were  borne  in 
pomp  from  banquet  to  banquet  beneath  canopies  of  velvet 
seamed  with  gold,  the  mothers  of  Languedoc  saw  their  chil- 
dren die  of  hunger  in  once  prosperous  towns,  and  the  holy  men 
and  women  of  Merindol  were  butchered  by  thousands  to  soothe 
the  venal  bigotry  of  their  master.(')  It  is  sometimes  said  that 
the  crimes  of  kings  and  popes,  like  Leo  X,,  Henry  VIIL,  and 
Francis,  are  to  be  palliated  by  the  general  barbarism  of  their 
age ;  it  might  be  easily  shown  that  they  were  nsually  the  most 
vicious  and  corrupt  of  their  contemporaries.  In  France  were 
thousands  of  wise,  pure,  honorable,  and  gifted  men,  well  fitted 
to  rule  a  nation,  who  saw  with  shame  and  horror  the  cruelties 
and  the  vices  of  the  unhappy  Francis  and  his  persecuting 
court. 

In  the  dawn  of  this  disastrous  reign  the  Huguenots  first  ap- 
pear. They  were  the  direct  offspring  of  the  Bible.(')  As  the 
sacred  volume,  multiplied  by  the  printing-presses  of  Germany, 
first  made  its  way  into  France,  it  was  received  as  a  new  reve- 
lation. Before  Luther  had  published  his  theses  it  is  said  that 
there  were  Protestants  at  Paris,  and  wherever  the  Bible  came 
it  was  certain  to  found  a  church.  But  it  was  chiefly  among 
the  men  of  labor  and  of  thought  that  its  teachings  were  ever 

(')  Schmidt,  Geschichte  vou  Frunkreicli,  ii.,  p.  293,  aud  ii.,  p.  693,  uote : 
"  Lo  i)rotecteur  de  Marot  cii  est  soiivent  riiciireux  rival." 

(■)  De  Felice,  p.  32  ;  White,  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  p.  13. 
C)  Smiles,  Huguenots,  p.  23. 


EMINENT  HUGUENOTS.  249 

welcome.     Labor,  flying  from  tlie  decaying  cities  of  Italy  and 
the  disturbed  dominions  of  Charles  V.,  had  found  a  new  home 
in  many  of  the  towns  of  France ;  accomplished  workmen  in 
silk  and  linen,  iron  or  clay,  had  stimulated  the  prosperity  of 
Lyons  and  Tours,  Saintes  and  Meaux ;  painters,  sculptors,  ar- 
chitects, and  poets  had  sprung  up  amidst  the  barbarism  of 
chivalry.     Paris  was  as  renowned  for  its  painters  as  for  its 
goldsmiths ;  and  the  College  of  France  spread  liberal  learning 
among  the  ambitious  students  of  the  day.     To  the  cultivated 
artisan  and  the  classical  scholar  the  gross  corruptions  of  the 
Church,  and  the  open  vices  of  monks  and  priests,  were  singu- 
larly odious ;  for  the  one  had  learned  the  charm  of  virtue  by 
practicing  a  regular  life,  the  other  by  a  study  of  Socrates  and 
Cicero.     When,  therefore,  the  Bible,  in  its  modern  translation, 
was  laid  before  the  jDeople,  a  wonderful  religious  revolution 
swept  over  France.     Nearly  the  whole  working-class  became 
Protestants.(')     The  great  manufacturing  towns  were  convert- 
ed at  once  from  Eomanism  to  the  faith  of  St.  Paul.     Almost 
every  eminent  artisan  or  inventor  was  a  Huguenot.     Stephen, 
the  famous  printer ;  Palissy,  the  chief  of  potters ;  the  first 
French  sculptor,  Goujon  ;  the  great  surgeon  Pare,  and  a  throng 
of  their  renowned  companions,  shrunk  from  the  mass  as  idola- 
trous, and  lived  by  the  pi-ecepts  of  the  Bible.Q     The  profess- 
ors of  the  College  of  France  and  the  ablest  of  living  scholars 
adopted  the  principles  of  reform.     The  impulse  spread  to  no- 
bles and  princes.     The  house  of  Bourbon  and  of  Navarre  were 
nearly  all  Huguenots.     Marguerite,  the  sister  of  Francis,  be- 
came the  chief  support  of  the  Reformers,  and  the  king  himself 
seemed  for  a  moment  touched  and  softened  by  the  sacred  lan- 
guage of   inspiration.     The  Bible  ruled   over   the   rejoicing 

(')  Archives  Curieuses,  1"  s6r.,  vol.  ii.,  p.  459,  La  Eebaine  cle  Lyon,  a  con- 
temporary tract,  deuouuces  the  new  faith  as  the  cause  of  the  independent 
spirit  of  the  workmen  of  Lyons.  Until  now  tliey  had  obeyed  their  masters 
(1529).  "  Mais,  depiiis  la  veuiie  de  ceste  faulce  secte  nouvellement  uou  trou- 
v6e  mais  renouvell^e  de  ces  mauhlictz  Vauldoys  et  Chaignartz  veuans  de 
septeutrion,  unde  omnc  malum  ct  hiiquitds,  le  peuple  a  prinse  une  elevation  et 
malice,"  etc.  The  peox^Ie  began  to  doubt  the  divine  riglit  of  their  princes 
to  rule.  (^)  Smiles,  Huguenots,  p.  37. 


250  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

French.     Of  the  -wonderful  power  of  tliis  -wide  reform  it  is 
impossible  to  speak  witliout  enthusiasm.     Swiftly  there  spread 
over  the  manufacturing  towns  of  France  a  reign  of  saintly  pu- 
rity.    Men  once  more  shrunk  from  vice  and  clung  to  virtue. 
The  gross  habits  of  the  Middle  Ages  were  thrown  aside ;  the 
taverns  and  theatres  were  deserted,  the  morris  -  dancers  and 
jongleurs  no  longer  amused ;  the  rude  dissipation  of  the  peas- 
antry, the  licentious  y^fe^  of  priests  and  nobles,  awakened  only 
disgust;  but  in  every  village  prayer-meetings  were  held,  and 
the  Bible  Avas  studied  by  throngs  of  eager  students,  who,  for  the 
first  time,  were  now  enabled  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  inspiration. 
The  Reformation  began,  it  is  said,  at  Meaux,  a  small  manu- 
facturing town  on  the  borders  of  Flanders,  which  had  learned 
from  its  Flemish  neighbor  industry  and  independence.(')     Its 
people  had  been  coarse  and  rude,  its  priests  vicious,  indolent, 
and  dull,  and  the  little  town  had  found  its  chief  recreation 
in  drunkenness  and  barbarous  license.      Its  inhabitants  were 
wool  -  carders,  fullers,  cloth  -  makers,  and  mechanics,  living  by 
the  product  of  their  daily  labor,  and  grasping  eagerly  at  ev- 
ery uncultivated  pleasure.     Jacques  Lefevre,  the  translator  of 
the  Bible  into  French,  a  man  of  nearly  seventy,  and  the  young 
and  brilliant  Farel,(°)  his  faithful  associate,  preached  to  the 
working-men  of  Meaux  and  distributed  among  them  copies 
of  the  Gospels.     At  once  the  mass  was  deserted,  the  priest 
contemned,  and  eager  throngs  listened  to  the  daring  mission- 
aries who  ventured  to  unfold  the  long-forgotten  truth.Q     A 
swift  and  graceful  transformation  passed  over  the  busy  town. 
]^o  profane  word  was  any  longer  uttered,  no  ribaldry  nor 
coarse  jests  were  heard.     Drunkenness  and  disorder  disap- 
peared ;  vice  hid  in  the  monastery  or  the  cloister.     In  every 
factory  the  Gospels  were  read  as  a  message  from  above,  and 
the  voice  of  prayer  and  thanksgiving  mingled  with  the  clam- 
or of  the  shuttle  and  the  clash  of  the  anvil.     The  rude  and 
boisterous  artisans  were  converted  into  refined  and  gentle  be- 

(>)  De  Felice,  p.  19. 

(")  Said  Farel :  "  Je  viens  prouver  la  v^rit6  cle  mes  doctrines,  et  je  le  ferai 
an  peril  de  ma  vie."     See  Histoire  Geutive,  par  A.  Shoarel,  ii.,  p.  89. 
(')  See  De  Felice,  p.  19. 


PALISSY  THE  POTTER.  251 

Hevers,  ever  seeking  for  the  pure  and  the  true ;  and  the  sud- 
den impulse  toward  a  higher  life  awakened  at  Meaux  by  the 
teachings  of  Farel  and  Lefev^re  stirred,  like  an  electric  shock, 
every  portion  of  diseased  and  decaying  France.  A  moment 
of  regeneration  seemed  near,  a  season  of  wonderful  advance. 

At  a  later  period  Palissy,  the  potter,  has  left  a  pleasing 
account  of  a  similar  transformation.  In  the  busy  town  of 
Saintes,  where  he  was  pursuing  with  incredible  toil  and  self- 
denial  one  of  the  chief  secrets  of  his  art,  Palissy  became  the 
founder  of  a  church.  Too  poor  to  purchase  a  copy  of  the  Bi- 
ble, he  learned  its  contents  by  heart,  and  every  Sunday  morn- 
ing exhorted  or  instructed  nine  or  ten  of  his  fellow  -  towns- 
men who  assembled  in  secret  to  hear  the  Word  of  God.  The 
little  congregation  soon  grew  in  numbers.(')  For  some  time 
they  met  at  midnight,  and  hid  from  persecution.  At  length 
the  purity  of  their  lives  and  the  earnestness  of  their  faith  won 
the  respect  of  the  people  of  Saintes ;  a  pastor  was  procured ; 
the  people  crowded  to  the  Protestant  assembly ;  a  revival 
spread  over  the  town,  and  a  sudden  reform  in  morals  made 
Saintes  a  haven  of  rest  and  peace.  Coarse  plays  and  dances, 
extravagance  in  dress  and  license  in  living,  scandal,  quarrels, 
and  lawsuits,  says  Palissy,  had  almost  wholly  passed  away.  In- 
stead of  profane  language  and  idle  jesting  were  heard  only 
psalms,  prayers,  and  spiritual  songs.(^)  The  religion  ruled 
over  the  happy  town,  and  even  the  priests  and  monks,  stirred 
by  the  general  impulse,  began  to  pray  and  preach  with  honest 
fervor,  and  to  enmlate  the  purity  of  the  zealous  reformers. 
A  gentle  harmony  prevailed  between  the  rival  churches ;  for 
the  moment  the  evil  passions  of  men  were  charmed  into  re- 
pose. Then,  adds  Palissy,  might  be  seen,  on  Sundays,  bands 
of  work-people  walking  cheerfully  in  the  meadows,  groves, 
and  fields,  singing  spiritual  songs  together,  or  reading  to  one 
another  from  the  sacred  volumes ;  }■  oung  girls  and  maidens 
chanting  hymns  beneath  the  pleasant  shade ;  boys,  with  their 
teachers,  full  of  a  steadfast  purpose  to  live  a  noble  life.     The 

(')  Palissy,  ffinvres  Completes,  Eecepto  Veritable,  p.  108. 
C)  Smiles,  Huguenots,  p.  39-42. 


252  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

very  countenances  of  the  people,  he  asserts,  were  changed ; 
the  coarse  lines  of  sensuality  had  been  swept  away,  and  from 
every  face  shone  only  benevolence  and  truth. 

The  i)icture  of  tlie  reformed  village,  drawn  by  the  honest 
pen  of  the  gentle  artisan,  reads  like  an  idyllic  dream  amidst 
the  dreadful  story  of  the  reign  of  the  chivalric  Francis.  It 
seems  scarcely  more  probable  than  Livy's  narrative  of  the 
Golden  Age  of  N'uma,  or  Homer's  legend  of  the  gentle  Phsea- 
cians.  Yet  it  was  no  doubt  true.  In  many  towns  and  cities 
of  martial  France  similar  scenes  were  witnessed.  More  than 
two  thousand  churches  sprung  up  in  the  apparently  ungenial 
soil.  The  early  Huguenots  were  noted  for  their  austere  virt- 
ues, their  truthfulness,  their  love  of  peace.  They  lived  to- 
gether, a  happy  brotherliood,  joined  in  a  common  faith,  a  sim- 
ilar purity  of  life.  Men  trusted  the  word  of  a  Huguenot 
when  the  oath  of  the  Catholic  noble  awakened  only  distrust. 
They  brought  honesty  into  commerce,  and  the  domestic  virt- 
ues into  every  home.  They  softened  their  enemies  by  a  tol- 
erant patience ;  they  strove  to  convert  rather  than  to  destroy ; 
their  brilliant  leaders,  adorned  by  rare  talents  and  eminent 
virtues,  attracted  the  admira'"'  !i  o^^  the  age;  aid  it  seemed 
possible  that  tlie  tide  of  reform  might  sweep  unchecked  over 
France,  subdue  by  its  gentleness  the  hostility  of  the  Galilean 
Church,  and  restrain,  with  a  mighty  force,  the  barbarous  in- 
stincts of  the  feudal  princes  and  the  impulsive  king. 

But  France  was  not  permitted  to  reform  itself.  It  was  the 
slave  of  an  Italian  master  and  of  a  throng  of  Italian  priests. 
From  their  distant  thrones  a  series  of  cruel  and  vicious  Popes 
awoke  the  fires  of  discord  in  the  progressive  nation,  denounced 
the  gentle  Huguenots  as  the  enemies  of  Heaven,  and  demand- 
ed their  extirpation. (^)  The  French  priests,  roused  to  mad- 
ness by  the  intrigues  of  Rome,  began  the  fatal  labor  of  perse- 
cution ;  the  uncultivated  nobles  and  the  immoral  court  yielded 
to  the  tierce  anathemas  of  the  Italian  potentate ;  robbers  and 

(')  The  Romish  Church  has  always  advocated  the  extirpation  of  heresy, 
■where  it  can  be  accomplished  with  safety  to  itself.  Do  Castro,  De  Justa 
Hseret.  Puuitione,  1547,  p.  119:  "Jure  divino  <>hli<;antur  eos  extirpare,  si 
absque  majori  incommodo  possiut."    So  "  fides  illis  data  servanda  nou  sit." 


REFORMERS  OUTLAWED.  253 

assassins  were  let  loose  upon  the  peaceful  congregations  of  re- 
formers ;  the  horrors  inflicted  bj  the  popish  Inquisitors  awoke 
retaliation,  and  the  dawning  hope  of  France  was  forever  lost 
in  the  unexampled  terrors  of  its  religious  wars. 

The  Pope  gave  the  signal  for  a  perpetual  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's. Francis  obeyed,  perhaps  reluctantly,  the  Italian  priest. 
A  general  crusade  began  against  all  those  flourishing  Protest- 
ant communities  where  sanctifled  labor  had  lately  borne  Hes- 
perian fruit.  In  1525,  Clement  VII.  sanctioned  or  created  the 
French  Inquisition,  endowing  it  with  "  apostolical  authority" 
to  try  and  condemn  heretics.  A  series  of  royal  edicts  follow- 
ed, enjoining  the  public  oflicials  to  extirpate  the  reformers ; 
and  in  every  part  of  France  it  became  the  favorite  pastime 
for  the  idle  and  the  dissolute  to  plunder  the  houses  of  the 
Huguenots,  burn  their  factories,  desolate  their  homes  by 
dreadful  atrocities,  and  bind  tliem  with  malevolent  exulta- 
tion to  the  stake.(')  At  the  command,  by  the  instigation  of 
Clement,  Paul,  Julius,  Pius,  the  successors  of  St.  Peter,  every 
Romanist  in  France  was  made  an  assassin,  every  faithful  ad- 
herent of  the  Pope  was  enjoined  to  rob  or  murder  an  unof- 
fending neiglibor.(°)  The  era  of  reform,  which  had  lately 
seemed  so  near,  vanished  before  the  malevolent  interference 
of  the  Italians ;  the  commands  of  Pome  checked  the  advan- 
cing tide  of  civilization.  Bands  of  plunderers,  blasphemers, 
ravishers,  murderers,  obeyed  the  Holy  Father,  and  sprung  upon 
the  Protestant  communities.  No  more  was  heard  the  chant  of 
holy  songs  on  Sundays  in  the  pleasant  groves ;  no  longer  fair 
young  girls  made  sacred  music  in  the  forest ;  no  more  the 
manly  youth  planned  lives  of  generous  purpose.  The  austere, 
benevolent  Iluffuenot  was  cut  down  at  his  force  or  his  shut- 
tie ;  his  wife  and  children  became  the  victims  of  the  papal 
soldiers ;  every  village  rang  with  blasphemy  and  the  jests  of 

(')  D'Aubignd,  Eef.  in  Europe,  i.,  p.  552-557.  Francis  was  hired  by  the 
clergy  to  extirpate  the  Hngueiiots.  See  J.  Simon,  La  Libertd  de  Cou- 
science,  p.  128  et  seq.,  for  the  cruelties  of  the  king. 

(^)  Relations  des  Auibassadeurs  Yenitiens,  Doc.  Ine'd.,  Hist.  France,  1.,  p. 
520:  "Fu  iutrodotta  (piesta  peste  in  Francia,"  etc.  It  was  a  horrible  jioi- 
son  the  Catholics  wished  to  expel. 


254:  THE  HUGUEXOTS. 

demons ;  every  enormity  was  pei'petrated  in  obedience  to  the 
orders  of  the  Pope. 

Palissy  has  described,  with  simple  truthfulness,  the  effects 
of  the  papal  interference  upon  his  once  prosperous  church  at 
Saintes.  The  town  had  been  invaded  by  a  band  of  papal  per- 
secutors. "  The  very  thought  of  those  evil  days,"  he  exclaims, 
"  tills  my  mind  with  horror." 

To  avoid  the  spectacle  of  the  robberies,  murders,  and  vari- 
ous crimes  perpetrated  in  the  town,  he  concealed  himself  for 
two  months  in  his  own  house.  During  all  this  long  period 
the  work  of  persecution  went  on,  until  all  the  reformed  had 
fled  from  the  hapless  neighborhood.  It  seemed  to  Palissy  as 
if  Satan  had  broken  loose,  and  raging  demons  had  suddenly 
taken  possession  of  Saintes.  Where  lately  had  been  heard 
only  psalms  and  spiritual  songs  and  exhortations  to  a  holy 
life,  now  echoed  on  every  side  abominable  language,  dissolute 
ballads,  profanity,  and  execrations.  Led  by  their  priests,  "  a 
band  of  imps,"  he  says,  issued  from  a  neighboring  castle,  en- 
tered the  town  with  drawn  swords,  and  shouted,  "  Where  are 
the  heretics  ?  We  will  cut  their  throats  at  once."  They  rush- 
ed from  house  to  house,  robbing  and  murdering ;  they  utter- 
ed blasphemies  against  both  God  and  man.(')  Palissy  himself 
soon  after  escaped  to  Paris.  Here  he  was  employed  for  many 
years  by  Catherine  de'  Medici  and  her  children ;  was  at  last 
sent  to  the  Bastile  for  heresy,  and  by  dying  in  prison  escaped 
the  stake.  His  narrative  of  the  events  of  Saintes,  of  the  hor- 
rors of  the  papal  persecution,  may  be  accepted  as  an  accurate 
picture  of  what  happened  in  every  Protestant  village  or  town 
in  France  by  the  direct  command  of  the  PojDe  at  Rome. 

There  now  began  a  remarkable  contest  between  the  Rom- 
ish Church  and  the  Bible  —  between  the  printers  and  the 
Popes.(^)  For  many  centuries  the  Scriptures  had  been  hid- 
den in  a  dead  language,  guarded  by  the  anathemas  of  the 

(')  Smiles,  Huguenots,  pp.  44,  45. 

C)  Relat.,  Amb.  V6i).,  Doc.  Indd.,  ii.,  p.  139.  Correro  thinks  the  heresies 
might  have  been  repressed  if  Francis  had  been  more  active.  Yet  it  was 
during  this  period  that  Montaigne  was  writing  his  essay  njion  "  Cruelty," 
and  teaching  wisdom  from  history. 


THE  BIBLE.  255 

priests  from  the  public  eye,  and  so  costly  in  manuscript  form 
as  to  be  accessible  only  to  the  wealthy.     A  Bible  cost  as 
much  as  a  landed  estate ;  the  greatest  universities,  the  richest 
monasteries,  could  scarcely  purchase  a  single  copy.     Its  lan- 
guage and  its  doctrines  had  long  been  forgotten  by  the  peo- 
ple, and  in  their  place  the  intellect  of  the  Middle  Ages  had 
been  fed  upon  extravagant  legends  and  monkish  visions,  the 
fancies  of  idle  priests,  the  fables  of  the  unscrupulous.     The 
wonders  worked  by  a  favorite  image,  the  virtues  of  a  relic, 
the  dreams  of  a  dull  abbot  or  a  fanatical  monk,  had  supplant- 
ed the  modest  teachings  of  Peter  and  the  narrative  of  Luke. 
Men  saw  before  them  only  the  imposing  fabric  of  the  Church 
of  Kome,  claiming  supremacy  over  the  conscience  and  the 
reason,  pardoning  sins,  determining  doctrines,  and  had  long 
ceased  to  remember  that  there  was  a  Kedeemer,  a  Bible,  even 
a  God.     A  practical  atheism  followed.     The  Pope  was  often 
a  skeptic,  except  as  to  his  own  right  to  rule.    The  Church  and 
the  monasteries  teemed  with  the  vices  depicted  by  Eabelais 
and  Erasmus.     Then,  in  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  a 
flood  of  light  was  poured  upon  mankind.     The  new  art  of 
printing  sprung  into  sudden  maturity,  and  great  numbers  of 
Bibles  were  scattered  among  the  people.     They  were  sought 
for  with  an  avidity,  studied  with  an  eagerness,  received  with 
an  undoubting  faith,  such  as  no  later  age  has  witnessed.     Ar- 
rayed in  the  charm  of  entrancing  novelty,  the  simple  story  of 
the  Gospels  and  the  noble  morals  of  the  epistles,  translated  for 
the  first  time  into  the  common  dialects,  descended  as  if  newly 
written  by  the  pen  of  angels  upon  the  minds  of  men. 

Every  honest  intellect  was  at  once  struck  with  the  strange 
discrepancy  between  the  teaching  of  the  sacred  volume  and 
that  of  the  Church  of  Rome.(')  No  religion,  indeed,  seemed 
less  consistent  with  itself  than  that  of  mediaeval  Romanism. 

(*)  To  the  sellers  of  iudulgences  the  New  Testament  was  particularly 
odious.  It  stopped  their  trade.  So  Lyndesay's  pardoner  or  indulgence- 
seller  exclaims : 

"  I  give  to  the  devil!  with  gude  intent 
This  unsell,  wicliit  New  Tcstiunent, 
With  tliame  that  it  trauslaitit." 

Haiyre  of  the  Three  Estates. 


256  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

The  Mohammedan  of  the  fifteenth  centnry  still  clung  with 
tenacity  to  the  minute  requirements  of  the  Koran ;  the  Jew 
obeyed  in  every  particular  the  injunctions  of  the  Decalogue; 
the  Greeks  and  Romans  had  suffered  few  alterations  in  the 
rituals  of  Jupiter  and  Diana.  But  it  was  found,  upon  the 
slightest  inspection,  that  there  was  no  authority  for  the  Rom- 
ish innovations  in  any  portion  of  the  Scriptures.  There  was 
no  purgatory,  no  mass,  no  papal  supremacy,  no  monasteries, 
no  relics  working  miracles,  no  images,  no  indulgences  to  be 
found  in  the  book  that  contained  the  teachings  of  Christ  and 
his  apostles.  The  inference  w^as  at  once  everywhere  drawn 
that  the  theories  of  the  Roman  Church  were  founded  upon 
imposture ;  and  when,  at  the  same  time,  the  shameless  lives  of 
its  priests  and  Popes  were  brought  before  the  public  eye  by 
satirists  and  preachers,  its  gross  corruption  was  believed  to  be 
the  necessary  result  of  its  want  of  truthfulness;  its  cruelty 
and  violence  seemed  the  offspring  of  its  unhallowed  sensuality 
and  pride.  The  Bible  alone  could  now  satisfy  the  active  in- 
tellect of  France ;  the  Bible  awoke  anew  the  simple  Church  of 
the  apostolic  age. 

To  the  Bible  the  Popes  at  once  declared  a  deathless  hostil- 
ity. To  read  the  Scriptures  was  in  their  eyes  the  grossest  of 
crimes;  for  they  confessed  by  their  acts  that  he  who  read 
must  cease  to  be  a  Romanist.(')  Not  murder,  robbery,  nor 
any  other  offense  was  punished  with  such  dreadful  severity.(^) 
The  tongues  of  the  gentle  criminals  were  usually  cut  out; 
they  were  racked  until  their  limbs  parted ;  they  were  then 
forced  to  mount  a  cart,  and  were  jolted  over  rough  streets,  in 
agony,  to  the  stake.  Here  they  were  burned  amidst  the  jeers 
of  the  priests  and  the  populace.  Yet  the  Bible  sustained 
them  in  their  hour  of  trial,  and  they  died  ever  with  hymns  of 
exultation.  Great  wars  were  undertaken  to  drive  the  sacred 
volume  from  schools  and  colleges.     The  Incpiisition  was  in- 

(■)  Said  Paul  IV. :  "A  heretic  never  repeuts ;  it  is  an  evil  for  which  there 
is  no  remedy  but  fire." 

(-)  Said  Montaigne,  Essay  on  Cruelty:  "I  live  in  a  time  abounding  in 
examples  of  this  vice;  we  sec  nothing  in  ancient  histories  more  extreme 
than  what  we  meet  with  every  day." 


BIBLES  BURNED.  257 

vested  witli  new  terrors,  and  was  forced  upon  France  and 
Holland  by  papal  armies.  The  Jesuits  were  everywhere  dis- 
tinguished by  their  hatred  for  the  Bible.  In  the  Netherlands 
they  led  the  persecutions  of  Alva  and  Philip  II. ;  they  re- 
joiced with  a  dreadful  joy  when  Antwerp,  Bruges,  and  Ghent, 
the  fairest  cities  of  the  working-men,  were  reduced  to  pauper- 
ism and  ruin  by  the  Spanish  arms ;  for  the  Bible  had  perished 
with  its  defenders.  "  There  are  above  forty  thousand  Prot- 
estants in  this  town,"  wrote  Sir  Thomas  Gresham  from  Ant- 
werp in  1666,  "  which  will  die  rather  than  that  the  Word  of 
God  shall  be  put  to  silence."  A  few  years  later  their  heroic 
resolution  had  been  fulfilled :  they  had  nearly  all  jDerished  by 
famine,  disease,  and  the  sword  of  Alva. 

To  burn  Bibles  was  the  favorite  employment  of  zealous 
Catholics.  Wherever  they  were  found  the  heretical  volumes 
were  destroyed  by  active  Inquisitors,  and  thousands  of  Bibles 
and  Testaments  perished  in  every  part  of  France.  Yet  tlie 
fertile  press  soon  renewed  the  abundant  fruit,  and  the  skillful 
printers  of  Germany  and  Switzerland  poured  forth  an  inces- 
sant stream  of  French,  Dutch,  and  English  Bibles,  besides  an 
infinite  number  of  tracts  and  treatises  by  eminent  reformers. 
The  demand  for  these  books  could  never  be  sufficiently  sup- 
plied. At  Nuremberg,  Mentz,  and  Strasburg  there  was  an 
eager  struggle  for  Luther's  smallest  pamphlets.  Of  his  cate- 
chism one  hundred  thousand  were  sold.  The  sheets  of  his 
tracts,  often  wet  from  the  press,  were  hidden  under  the  pur- 
chasers' cloaks  and  passed  from  shop  to  shop.  The  most 
hated  and  the  most  feared  of  all  the  agents  of  reform,  in  this 
remarkable  period,  by  priest  and  Pope,  was  the  humble  col- 
porteur or  Bible-seller.  Laden  with  his  little  pack  of  Bibles, 
Testaments,  and  Protestant  treatises,  the  godly  merchant  made 
his  way  from  Antwerp  or  Geneva  into  the  heart  of  France, 
and,  beneath  the  hot  summer  sun  or  in  the  snows  of  winter, 
pursued  with  patient  toil  his  dangerous  traffic.(')     He  knew 

(')  De  Felice,  p.  73.  Eeadiug  the  Bible  to  a  congregation  unauthorized 
by  law  is  still  a  criminal  ofteuso  iu  France,  or  was  so  in  1857.  See  M.  Jules 
Simon's  La  Liberte  de  Conscience,  p.  27.  His  treatise  may  bo  read  with 
instruction. 

17 


258  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

that  if  detected  he  must  die ;  he  felt  that  the  keen  eyes  of  In- 
quisitors and  priests  were  everywhere  watching  for  his  com- 
ing. Yet,  often  disguised  as  a  peddler  of  ribbons  and  trinkets, 
he  made  his  way  into  the  castles  of  the  nobles  or  the  homes 
of  the  working-men,  and  cautiously  exposed  his  forbidden 
wares.  They  were  bought  with  eagerness,  and  read  by  noble 
and  peasant.  But  not  seldom  the  daring  missionary  was  dis- 
covered and  punished ;  his  little  stock  of  Bibles  was  dragged 
forth  and  burned  by  rejoicing  priests,  and  the  humble  Bible- 
seller  was  himself  sacriliced,  in  fearful  tortures,  to  the  dread- 
ful deity  at  Rome. 

Between  the  printers  and  the  Popes  the  war  now  began  that 
has  never  ceased.  The  clank  of  the  printing-press  had  to  the 
ears  of  the  Italian  priesthood  an  ominous  sound,  "  We  must 
destroy  printing,"  said  an  English  vicar,  "  or  it  will  destroy 
us."  The  Sorbonne  of  Paris  denounced  the  printers  in  1534, 
and  burned  twenty  of  them  within  six  months,  and  one  wom- 
an. A  printer  of  the  Eue  Saint  Jacques  was  condemned  for 
publishing  Luther's  works ;  a  book-seller  was  burned  for  hav- 
ing sold  them.  At  last  the  Sorbonne,  the  council  of  the  papal 
faction,  in  1535,  obtained  a  decree  from  the  king  for  the  total 
suppression  of  printing.  (') 

Robert  Stephens  was  one  of  the  most  eminent  printers  and 
scholars  of  the  age.  From  his  accurate  press  at  Paris  had  is- 
sued Latin  Bibles  and  Testaments  of  singular  excellence  and 
beauty.  But  he  was  a  Huguenot,  and  even  the  favor  and  pro- 
tection of  the  kino;  and  the  court  could  not  shield  him  from 
the  rage  of  the  Sorbonne,  It  was  discovered  that  in  the  notes 
to  his  Latin  Bible  of  1545  he  had  introduced  heretical  doc- 
trines. Lie  was  prosecuted  by  the  Paculty  of  Theology,  and 
fled  from  France  to  escape  the  stake.  His  contemporary,  the 
poet,  printer,  and  scholar,  Dolet,  was  burned  for  atheism  in 
1546.     Yet  the  bold  printers  in  Protestant  Geneva,  Germany, 


(')  A.  F.  Didot,  Paris  Guide.  "  C'est  ainsi,"  says  Didot,  a  good  authority, 
"  que  traitait  I'imprinierie  celui  qu'ou  a  voulu  suruommcr  le  Fere,  oil  le  Re- 
staurateur (les  Lettres,"  p.  296.  The  French  are  slowly  discovering  the  ab- 
surdity of  their  received  histories. 


THE  PRINTERS  AND   TEE  POPES.  259 

and  the  Low  Countries  defied  the  rage  of  Popes  and  Inquis- 
itors, and  still  poured  forth  an  increasing  tide  of  Protestant 
tracts  and  Bibles.  The  press  waged  a  ruthless  war  upon  the 
Antichrist  at  Pome.  It  founded  the  republic  of  Holland,  the 
central  fount  of  modern  freedom  ;  it  reformed  England  and 
the  North.  It  filled  the  common  schools  with  Bibles,  and  in- 
structed nations  in  the  humanizing  lessons  of  history.  From 
age  to  age  it  has  never  ceased  to  inflict  deadly  wounds  upon 
the  papacy ;  until  at  length  even  Italy  and  Sj^ain  have  been 
rescued  from  the  grasp  of  the  Inquisition  and  the  Jesuits,  and 
have  proclaimed  the  freedom  of  the  press.  In  the  city  of 
Pome  alone,  under  the  tyranny  of  an  infallible  pope,  the  print- 
er lay  chained  at  the  mercy  of  his  ancient  adversary  until  a 
recent  period :  from  the  dominions  of  Pius  IX.  the  Protestant 
Bible,  the  source  of  modern  civilization,  was  excluded  by  pen- 
alties scarcely  less  severe  than  those  imposed  by  Pius  V.  And 
as  once  more  the  Italian  priests  prepare  to  renew  their  war- 
fare against  the  printing-press  and  the  Bible  in  the  cities  of 
free  America,  they  will  encounter,  though  with  new  arts  and 
new  arms,  their  successful  adversary  of  the  Old  World.  The 
printer  once  more  defies  the  Pope.  He  points  to  the  ashes  of 
his  martyrs,  scattered  in  the  waters  of  the  Seine  or  the  Scheldt 
in  the  sixteenth  century ;  to  the  prisons  of  Bologna  or  of 
Rome,  so  lately  filled  with  the  dying  advocates  of  a  free  press 
in  the  nineteenth ;  to  the  crimes  of  Pius  IX.,  no  less  than 
those  of  Pius  Y.,  as  his  gage  of  battle.(') 

More  than  thirty  years  of  ceaseless  persecution,  filled  with 
scenes  of  horror,  of  flourishing  seats  of  industry  sacked  and 
blighted,  of  holy  men  and  women  martyred  with  incredible 
sufferings,  of  dreadful  atrocities  perpetrated  in  every  town 
and  village  by  the  emissaries  of  the  Popes,  had  passed  over 
the  patient  Huguenots  before  they  resolved  to  take  up  arms 
in  self-defense.     Their  gentle  pastors,  with  persistent  magna- 

(')  The  present  Pope  began  his  reign  by  promising  a  free  press  and  lib- 
eral reforms  to  his  peojile.  He  violated  all  his  promises;  and  there  is  no 
existing  government  that  has  shown  such  excessive  severity  to  its  polit- 
ical opponents  as  that  of  Pius  IX.  See  Facts  and  Figures  from  Italy,  and 
Italy  iu  Transition. 


260  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

nimity,  inculcated  theories  of  non-resistance.  Calvin  himself, 
rigid  and  severe,  still  urged  upon  them  obedience  to  their 
merciless  kings.  He  was  content  to  meet  the  savage  barba- 
rism of  the  Inquisition  with  spiritual  arms.  From  his  strong- 
hold at  Geneva  he  organized  his  Bible  societies,  and  poured 
an  incessant  stream  of  reformed  literature  over  every  part  of 
France.  He  cheered  the  martyrs  with  austere  exhortations ; 
his  Bible-sellers  were  seen  in  every  secluded  path  and  by-way, 
stealing  with  fearless  faith  from  congregation  to  congrega- 
tion ;  his  presses  at  Geneva  were  never  idle ;  his  "  Institutes  " 
were  scattered  widely  over  his  native  land.  During  this  pe- 
riod of  suffering,  the  Huguenots  continued  to  increase  in  num- 
bers. Yet  their  congregations  were  often  forced  to  meet  in 
caves  and  forests,  and  to  chant  in  subdued  tones  their  sacred 
songs,  lest  their  persecutors  might  break  in  upon  them  with 
tire  and  sword.  Often  the  pious  assembly  was  discovered  in 
its  most  secret  retreat,  and  men,  women,  and  children  were 
massacred  by  hordes  of  priests  and  brigands. 

At  Metiux,  the  birthplace  of  reform,  fourteen  persons  were 
burned  alive  in  the  market-place.  In  the  South  of  France  two 
Protestant  towns,  Cabrieres  and  Merindol,  were  razed  to  the 
ground :  every  house  was  destroyed,  and  the  unoffending  peo- 
ple were  murdered  in  the  streets.  Four  or  five  hundred 
women  and  children,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  a  church,  were 
butchered  at  once ;  twenty-five  women,  who  had  hidden  in  a 
cave,  were  smothered  by  a  fire  kindled  at  its  entrance  by  the 
papal  legate.  At  Paris,  on  the  night  of  September  4th,  1537, 
a  congregation  of  Protestants  were  gathered  in  secret  at  a 
private  house  in  the  suburbs.(')  Many  of  them  were  refined 
and  pious  men  and  women  from  the  cultivated  classes  of  so- 
ciety; some  were  noble  and  connected  with  the  court.  But, 
united  by  a  common  piety,  they  celebrated  the  communion 
and  listened  to  the  exhortations  of  a  faithful  pastor.(")     They 


(')  White,  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  p.  40-43. 

(*)  The  Huguenots  fled  from  Paris  in  great  numhers.  The  streets  re- 
sounded with  the  cry  of  the  ban  proclaimed  against  theia.  J.  Siiuou,  La 
Liberty  de  Conscience,  p.  131. 


PHILIPPA  DE  LUNZ.  261 

were  startled  by  the  erj,  outside  the  door,  of  "  Death  to  the 
Lutherans'."  A  wild  mob  of  papists  surrounded  the  house 
and  besieged  all  night  the  terrified  women,  who  were  guarded 
alone  by  the  swords  of  the  gentlemen  who  attended  them. 
In  the  morning  the  police  arrested  the  whole  Huguenot  con- 
gregation and  dragged  them  through  the  streets  to  the  filthy 
dungeons  of  the  Chatelet,  where  they  had  room  neither  to  lie 
nor  sit  down.  By  the  strict  law  their  lives  were  forfeited. 
They  were  offered  pardon  if  they  would  go  to  mass.  But 
not  one  consented.  A  long  and  terrible  imprisonment  passed 
away  before  they  were  brought  to  trial.  Among  the  captives, 
the  fate  of  Philippa  de  Lunz — a  refined  and  high-bred  wom- 
an, only  twenty-two  years  old,  a  widow,  possessed  of  wealth 
and  influence — is  singularly  illustrative  of  the  papal  theories. 
She  was  examined,  and  refused  to  recant.  She  was  next  led 
out  for  execution.  In  the  gay  city  of  Paris,  in  September, 
1558,  a  throng  of  papists  assembled  around  a  pile  of  fagots  in 
the  Place  Maubert,  dancing,  singing,  and  calling  for  the  vic- 
tims. The  king,  it  is  said,  looked  on  from  a  distance ;  the 
courtiers  were  not  far  off ;  the  pnests  were,  no  doubt,  all  pres- 
ent. At  length  a  cart  drove  into  the  square,  on  which  were 
seen  Philippa  and  two  Huguenot  companions.  Their  tongues 
had  already  been  cut  out.  But  Philippa  had  laid  aside  her 
widow's  weeds,  and  was  dressed  in  her  best  attire.  For  she 
said,  on  leaving  prison,  "Why  should  not  I  rejoice?  I  am 
going  to  meet  my  husband." 

She  witnessed  the  horrible  convulsions  of  her  two  friends 
as  they  expired  amidst  the  flames.  She  was  lost  in  fervent 
prayer.  The  executioners  roughly  seized  her,  tore  off  her 
outer  dress,  and  held  her,  with  her  head  downward,  in  the  flre. 
Her  feet  had  already  been  burned  off.  She  was  then  stran- 
gled, and  her  great  soul  escaped  to  heaven.(') 

.  Several  others  of  the  prisoners  were  executed.     But  their 
fate  DOW  awakened  the  attention  of  Europe.     Calvin  wrote  to 
the  survivors  a  letter  of  encouragement ;  at  his  entreaty  the 
princes  of  Germany  interceded  for  them.    The  younger  prison- 
ed) White,  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  i>,  43. 


262  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

ers  were  carried  to  monasteries,  from  whence  they  were  after- 
ward allowed  to  escape ;  others  were  pardoned  upon  making 
an  apparent  recantation;  and  it  is  possible  that  even  the 
French  king  and  court  were  satisfied  with  the  woes  already 
inflicted  upon  the  pious  congregation  of  Paris.  But  the  Pope 
was  enraged  at  the  lenity  shown  to  the  Huguenots,  and  de- 
nounced the  faint  trace  of  toleration  on  the  part  of  the  king. 
He  complained,  he  remonstrated.  He  was  discontented  be- 
cause every  prisoner  had  not  been  hung  with  his  head  down- 
ward in  the  flames,  and  strangled,  like  Philippa  de  Lunz.(') 

I  have  sketched  the  fate  of  the  Protestants  of  Paris  as  an 
illustration  of  the  Poman  doctrine  of  employing  force  in  pre- 
serving religious  unity.  The  Popes  and  the  Italian  priests 
still  defend  that  theory  of  persecution  by  which  Philippa  de 
Lunz  was  strangled ;  by  which  every  country  of  Europe  has 
been  filled  with  woe ;  by  which,  if  honestly  accepted,  every 
devout  Roman  Catholic  might  be  converted  into  an  assassin.(') 

Silenced  and  overpowered,  their  congregations  broken  up, 
their  pastors  driven  from  France,  the  Huguenots  still  express- 
ed their  religious  impulses  by  a  singular  expedient.  Music 
came  to  their  aid.  Clement  Marot  translated  the  Psalms  of 
David  into  French  verse,  and  soon  the  inspired  songs  of  the 
Jewish  king  were  chanted  in  every  city  of  the  realm.  They 
resounded  in  plaintive  melodies  from  the  caves  and  forests 
where  the  Huguenots  still  ventured  to  assemble ;  they  made 
their  way  into  the  palace  and  the  castle  ;  and  Francis,  Henry 
IL,  Catherine  de'  Medici,  and  Henry  of  Navarre,  had  each  a 
favorite  psalm.  Catherine,  with  some  propriety,  selected  "  O 
Lord,  rebuke  me  not ;"  Diana  of  Poitiers,  the  mistress  of  Hen- 
ry IL,  delighted  in  the  De  Profundis.  The  Huguenots  sung 
the  Psalms  as  a  substitute  for  divine  worship ;  and  often,  as 
throngs  of  Parisians  were  walking  on  summer  evenings  in  the 
pleasure-grounds  of  Vy6  aux  Clercs,  some  daring  reformer 


(')  Laurent,  Le  Catholicismo  et  la  Eeligion  de  l'Avenir,Pari8, 1869,  p.  577 
et  seq.,  shows  that  the  Holy  Office  is  still  defended  by  the  Romish  bishops. 

C)  The  Syllabus  still  asserts  that  heresy  must  be  repressed  by  force. 
The  infallible  Pope  still  wields  the  sword  of  persecution. 


CATHERINE  DE'  MEDICI.  ,      263 

would  strike  the  kej-note  of  a  psalm  of  Marot,  and  the  strain, 
caught  up  by  innumerable  voices,  would  swell  over  the  gay  as- 
semblage. The  King  and  Queen  of  Navarre  often  went  to  the 
fashionable  walk  to  hear  the  singing.  But  the  priests  at  length 
procured  an  edict  forbidding  the  practice,  and  the  voice  of  sacred 
melody  was  finally  hushed  in  the  horrors  of  St.  Bartholomew. 

King  Francis,  the  chivalric,  died  of  his  own  excesses ;  his 
son,  Henry  II.,  succeeded,  the  husband  of  Catherine  de'  Medici. 
He  was  even  more  vicious  and  cruel  than  his  father ;  he  per- 
secuted with  Italian  severity ;  he  died  amidst  the  thanksgiv- 
ings of  the  Huguenots,  pierced  by  the  lance  of  a  rival  knight, 
at  a  magnificent  tourney.  His  death  made  way  for  the  rule 
of  his  widow,  Catherine  de'  Medici,  and  their  three  miserable 
sons,  l^or  can  one  reflect  without  a  shudder  of  disgust  upon 
that  wretched  group  of  depraved  men  and  more  monstrous 
women  into  whose  hands  now  fell  the  destiny  of  the  Hugue- 
nots and  of  fair  and  progressive  France.  Touched  by  the 
genial  impulse  of  reform,  filled  with  a  brilliant  genei'ation  of 
poets,  scholars,  accomplished  artisans,  and  gifted  statesmen, 
such  as  the  world  has  seldom  known,  the  unhappy  realm  was 
checked  in  the  moment  of  its  advance  by  the  follies  and  the 
crimes  of  Catherine,  the  Popes,  and  the  Guises.  Eome  ruled 
at  Paris,  and  in  the  peaceful  and  holy  communities  described 
by  Palissy  and  Beza  was  soon  aroused  a  dreadful  discord  that 
ended  in  their  destruction.  The  workman  fled  from  his  forjje 
or  his  loom  to  die  upon  the  battle-field  ;  the  scholar,  the  mu- 
sician, and  the  poet  carried  the  fruits  of  their  genius  to  foreign 
lands ;  the  Italian  prelate,  with  malevolent  touch,  blighted  the 
dawning  civilization  of  France.(') 

Catherine  de'  Medici  led  the  revelries,  the  fashions,  and 
the  politics  of  the  age.  Her  youth  had  been  singularly  un- 
fortunate-C')     No  friendly  voice,  no  fond  or  tender  counsels, 

(*)  A  Romish  view  of  the  persecution  of  the  Huguenots  is  given  by  De 
Saucli^res,  Coup  d'ffiil  sur  I'Histoire  du  Calvinismo  en  France  (1844).  This 
author  palliates  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  and  exults  over  the  Rev- 
ocation. 

O  Vita  di  Caterina  de'  Medici,  Alberi,  softens  the  portrait  of  Catherine : 
"La  gran  figura  de  Caterina  domiuaintera  uu'epoca  importantissima,"  etc. 


264  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

had  awakened  in  lier  cold  heart  a  trace  of  filial  or  maternal 
love.  Her  father,  Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  had  deserved  by  his 
vices  tlie  miseries  he  endured ;  her  mother  was  no  less  unhap- 
py ;  and  Catherine,  the  descendant  of  the  wealthiest  mercan- 
tile house  in  Europe,  was  born  penniless  and  a  child  of  evil 
omen.  It  was  foretold  of  her  at  her  birth  that  she  would 
bring  destruction  to  the  city  where  she  was  born  ;  the  towns- 
people of  Florence  would  have  exposed  the  infant  in  a  basket 
to  the  balls  of  their  enemies.  But  she  was  preserved  alive, 
w^as  shut  up  in  a  convent,  and  in  the  school  of  Macchiavelli 
and  of  Rome  learned  dissimulation  and  self-control.  Her  un- 
cle became  Pope ;  and  Francis  L,  anxious  to  win  the  support 
of  Clement,  married  his  son  Henry  to  the  portionless  orphan, 
then  a  girl  of  fourteen.  But  misfortune  still  followed  the 
child  of  evil  omen.  The  Pope,  her  uncle,  soon  died  ;  Francis 
reaped  no  benefit  from  the  hasty  marriage;  and  Catherine 
came  into  the  family  of  Valois  only  to  be  neglected  by  her 
husband  for  Diana  of  Poitiers,  and  to  be  contemned  by  her 
regal  relatives  as  the  impoverished  descendant  of  a  race  of 
merchants. 

For  many  years  she  lived  powerless  and  obscure,  the  nom- 
inal wife  of  a  depraved  king.(')  Yet  she  was  singularly  beau- 
tiful. Her  brilliant  complexion,  her  large  and  lustrous  eyes, 
the  inheritance  of  the  Medicean  family,  her  graceful  form,  her 
hand  and  arm  that  no  painter  or  sculptor  could  imitate,  were 
set  off  by  manners  so  soft  and  engaging  as  to  win  the  esteem 
even  of  her  foes.  Few  left  her  presence  without  being  charm- 
ed by  that  graceful  courtesy  which  had  descended  to  her  from 
Lorenzo  the  Magnificent ;  few  could  believe  that  her  placid 
countenance  concealed  the  passions,  the  resentments,  the  un- 
sparing malice  of  the  most  ambitious  of  women.  From  Lo- 
renzo Catherine  had  inherited,  too,  a  love  for  exterior  beau- 
ty in  dress  or  form,  a  taste  for  lavish  elegance.  She  shone 
at  tourneys,  and  glittered  in  stately  processions.  From  him, 
perhaps,  came  that  passion  for  political  intrigue  that  seemed 
the  only  vigorous  impulse  of  her  placid  nature,  and  for  which 


(')  Alberi,  p.  45. 


CATHERINE'S  SUPEESTITIOK  265 

at  times  slie  became  a  mm-deress,  reveling  in  the  spectacle  of 
her  bleeding  victims,  or  meditated  and  prepared  the  corrup- 
tion, the  degradation,  or  the  death  of  her  own  sous. 

Bj  some  ardent  Roman  Catholic  writers  Catherine  is  adorn- 
ed with  all  saintly  virtues  as  the  guardian  and  defender  of 
the  Church ;  by  most  historians  she  is  looked  upon  as  an  in- 
comprehensible mystery.(')  Kot  even  her  contemporaries 
could  penetrate  that  chill  and  icy  heart,  where  no  maternal 
or  friendly  affections  ever  dwelt,  where  pity  and  compassion 
never  came,  which  was  dead  to  the  sufferings  of  others,  and 
even  to  her  own,  and  discover  the  secret  springs  that  guided 
her  erratic  policy  of  vacillation  and  crime.  Yet  it  is  possil)le 
that  the  true  mystery  lay  in  her  boundless  superstition.  For 
the  common  modes  of  belief  she  had  nothing  but  skepticism. 
She  toyed  with  the  Huguenots ;  she  was  not  afraid  to  cajole 
or  defy  the  Catholics  and  the  Pope.  But  before  the  sorcerer 
or  the  fortune-teller  all  her  narrow  intellect  was  bowed  in  ab- 
ject submission. (°)  Her  credulity  w^as,  perhaps,  the  cause  of 
her  impassive  cruelty.  She  obeyed  implicitly  the  decrees  of 
the  stars  ;  she  consulted  with  awe  the  famous  seer  of  Salon, 
Nostradamus,  whose  name  and  writings  are  still  cherished  by 
the  lovers  of  curious  mysteries,  and  whose  rude  oracles  were 
freely  purchased  by  the  noble  and  the  great  of  his  supersti- 
tious age.  She  wore  a  mystic  amulet  or  chain  that  still  ex- 
ists ;  she  kept  around  her  astrologers  and  alchemists,  and  pos- 
sibly believed  that  in  all  her  cruelties  and  crimes  she  was  gov- 
erned by  an  overruling  fate.  It  is  probable  that  a  secret  in- 
sanity clouded  the  active  mind  of  the  French  Medea.  Yet  at 
the  age  of  thirty -nine  Catherine  held  in  her  unsteady  hand  the 
destiny  of  France. 

By  her  side  had  grown  up  into  rare  beauty  and  equal  dis- 
simulation and  pride  a  woman  scarcely  less  mysterious  than 
herself.  The  character  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  is  still  the 
subject  of  animated  debate.     She  was  the  wife  of  Francis  II., 


(')  The  Venetian  embassador,  Suriano,  1569,  describes  her  as  "femme  sage, 
mais  timide,  irrdsohie,  et  tonjours  femme." — Relations,  etc.,  vol.  i.,  p.  559. 
{^)  Capefigue,  Frang ois  1",  ii.,  p.  8. 


266  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

Catherine's  eldest  son,  now  King  of  France.(')  He  was  a  fee- 
ble, mindless  boy  of  sixteen ;  but  the  acute  and  brilliant  Mary- 
was  a  year  or  two  older,  full  of  graces  and  accomplishments, 
of  ambition  and  pride.  In  the  splendid  dawn  of  her  mourn- 
ful career  Mary  was  rightful  Queen  of  France  and  Scotland, 
and  the  popish  claimant  of  the  crown  of  England.  She  seem- 
ed the  most  powerful  and  prosperous  of  living  women,  and, 
in  the  petulance  of  youthful  pride,  was  accustomed  to  taunt 
her  mother-in-law,  Catherine,  whom  she  hated,  with  being  the 
daughter  of  a  race  of  Florentine  shop-keepers.  The  two  acute 
and  heartless  women  struggled  for  power ;  but  the  contest  was 
soon  ended  by  the  death  of  Francis  and  the  reluctant  retreat 
of  Mary  from  the  palaces  and  revels  of  Catholic  France  to  the 
barren  wilds  of  her  Northern  kingdom. 

At  the  head  of  the  violent  faction  of  the  Catholics  stood 
the  ambitious  family  of  the  Guises.  The  feeble  kings,  and 
even  the  aspiring  Catherine,  were  forced  to  submit  to  the  im- 
petuous and  overbearing  policy  of  these  devoted  adherents  of 
the  papacy.  It  was  the  favorite  aim  of  the  Guises  to  extermi- 
nate the  Huguenots,  and  to  lay  at  the  feet  of  the  Eoman  pon- 
tiff France,  purified  by  a  general  massacre  of  his  foes.  Yet  the 
power  of  the  Guises  was  only  of  recent  origin.  Their  father, 
Duke  Claude,  liad  come  up  to  the  French  court  an  impover- 
ished adventurer,  and  had  died  leaving  enormous  wealth,  the 
fruit  of  a  corrupt  but  successful  career.  His  family  of  six 
sons  were  the  inheritors  of  his  fortune  and  power.  His 
daughter  was  the  mother  of  Mary  of  Scotland.  His  eldest 
son  Duke  Francis,  ruled  over  the  family,  the  court,  and  the 
king ;  the  second,  Charles,  Cardinal  of  Lorraine,  had  engross- 
ed innumerable  benefices,  and  was  almost  the  Pope  of  France ; 
his  rare  eloquence  and  vigorous  intellect  were  employed  with 
fatal  effect  in  the  cause  of  persecution ;  his  sonorous  voice 
had  chanted  at  the  Council  of  Trent  a  perpetual  anathema 
against  heresy.  The  two  Guises,  Duke  Francis  and  the  car- 
dinal, were  called  by  their  contemporaries  "  the  butcliers."(') 

(')  Alberi,  p.  59. 

C)  White,  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  p.  85.     The  Duchess  of  Guise 
nearly  fainted  at  one  of  these  eshibitious. 


JEANNE  D'ALBBET.  267 

ISTothing  stirred  their  savage  breasts  witli  such  real  joy  as  tlie 
spectacle  of  Huguenots  dying  by  torture.  It  was  the  custom 
of  the  cardinal,  after  a  stately  dinner  at  his  regal  palace,  to 
show  his  guests  a  fair  array  of  martyrs  executed  for  their  en- 
tertainment, or  sometimes  to  hang  up  a  tall  and  stalwart  re- 
former in  the  banqueting  chamber  itself.  Such  monsters  as 
the  Guises,  Catherine,  or  her  children,  have  never  been  pro- 
duced in  any  form  of  Christianity  except  the  Roman  Cath- 
olic, and  are  the  necessary  result  of  the  Romish  doctrine  of 
force. 

As  if  in  happy  contrast  to  Catherine  and  Mary,  two  women 
of  singular  piety  and  decorum  ruled  over  the  chiefs  of  the 
Huguenots.  Jeanne  d'Albret,  Queen  of  Navarre  and  mother 
of  Henry  IV.,  governed  her  little  kingdom  with  masculine 
vigor,  expelled  the  priests  and  the  mass,  corresponded  with 
Calvin,  and  scoffed  at  the  malice  of  the  Pope.(')  To  Jeanne 
the  Huguenots  owed  their  best  counsels  and  their  final  suc- 
cess ;  for  she  educated  her  son  in  the  valleys  of  the  Pyrenees 
to  bear  toil  and  hunger,  to  feed  on  the  coarsest  food,  to  play 
barefoot  and  bareheaded  with  the  children  of  the  villages,  and 
to  prepare  himself  by  early  deprivations  for  the  duties  of 
camp  and  court.  Henry  descended  from  his  native  mount- 
ains robust,  tall,  strong  in  mind  and  will,  tender-hearted,  and 
benevolent,  the  direct  opposite  of  the  three  malicious  and  de- 
graded kings,  his  predecessors,  who  had  been  molded  by  the 
corrupting  hand  of  their  mother,  Catherine  de'  Medici.  An- 
other pure  and  courageous  woman,  Charlotte  de  Laval,  wife 
of  the  great  Coligny,  inspired  the  most  eminent  of  the  Hu- 
guenots with  her  own  heroic  zeal.  She  urged,  she  implored 
her  husband  to  take  up  arms  in  defense  of  reform ;  and  when 
Coligny  pointed  out  to  her,  with  wise  and  tender  words,  the 
dangers  and  sufferings  that  must  fall  upon  them  both  if  he 
yielded  to  her  advice,  she  nobly  promised  to  bear  all  without 
a  murmur.  The  Huguenot  mothers,  in  fact,  in  this  hour  of 
danger,  seemed  to  emulate  the  heroism  of  Jeanne  d'Albret 

(')  De  Felice,  p.  14:  "Jeanne  introduced  into  Beam  a  puritanic  austeri- 
ty.    She  was  learned,  bold,  severe,  the  most  emiueut  ■woman  of  her  age." 


2G8  THE  HUGUEXOTS. 

and  the  wife  of  Coligny,  and  bid  tlieir  husbands  and  their 
sons  go  forth  to  battle,  followed  by  their  blessings  and  their 
prayers. 

Yet  the  Huguenots  were  fearfully  outnumbered.  They 
formed  scarcely  a  twentieth  part  of  the  population  of  France. 
Paris,  the  chief  city  of  the  realm,  was  intensely  Catholic. 
The  court  and  the  Guises  held  in  their  power  the  capital  and 
the  government  of  the  nation.  Calvin  and  the  Protestant 
pastors  urged  submission  upon  the  persecuted  Huguenots,  and 
it  was  with  sincere  reluctance  that  Coligny  and  the  chiefs  of 
his  party  raised  at  last  the  standard  of  a  religious  warfare. 
A  terrible  atrocity  suddenly  aroused  them  to  action. (')  On 
Sunday,  March  1st,  15G2,  the  bells  rang  for  service  in  the  lit- 
tle town  of  Yassy,  in  Champagne,  and  a  congregation  of 
twelve  hundred  Huguenots  had  gathered  in  a  large  barn  to 
celebrate  their  simple  worship.  Duke  Francis  of  Guise  rode 
into  the  village  at  the  head  of  a  party  of  soldiers  on  his  way 
to  Paris.('')  The  peal  of  the  Huguenot  bells  enraged  the 
fanatical  chief,  and  after  dinner  he  led  out  his  soldiers  to  dis- 
turb or  destroy  the  peaceful  worshijiers.  They  broke  into 
the  barn ;  the  Huguenots,  unarmed,  threw  stones  at  the  in- 
truders, and  one  struck  the  duke  on  the  cheek.  He  gave  or- 
ders for  a  general  massacre  of  the  Protestants ;  men,  women, 
and  children  were  cut  down  or  shot  by  the  merciless  assassins ; 
few  escaped  unharmed  from  the  dreadful  scene;  the  duke, 
covered  with  the  blood  of  innocence,  rode  on  in  triumph  to 
Paris.  He  was  received  in  the  most  Catholic  city  as  the 
avenger  of  the  Church.  Surrounded  by  a  body-guard  of 
twelve  hundred  gentlemen  (^)  on  horseback,  he  entered  the 
city  by  the  St.  Denis  gate  amidst  the  applause  of  a  vast  throng 
of  citizens ;  the  streets  rang  with  songs  and  ballads  composed 
in  his  honor.  He  was  from  this  time  the  consecrated  leader 
of  the  papal  party ;  and  the  priests  and  bishops  from  every 

(')  Even  De  Sancliferes  admits  the  long  patience  of  the  Huguenots :  "  Se 
souniit,  quoique  avec  beaucoup  do  peine,  a  se  laisser  punir,"etc.  Yet  sees 
in  them  only  "  cette  secte  turbulente." — Coup  d'CEil,  p.  4. 

(-)  For  the  massacre  at  Vassy,  see  Martin,  Hist.  France,  x.,  p.  110 :  "Lea 
geus  du  due  commenc^rent  h  iusulter  les  Hngnenots." 


THE  HUGUENOTS  FdSE.  269 

pulpit  celebrated  that  '•'noble  lord"  who  had  instigated  and 
guided  the  massacre  of  the  heretics  at  Vassy.  A  year  later 
the  duke  lay  on  his  dying  bed,  his  ambition  stilled  forever, 
his  furious  rage  quenched  in  the  last  agonies;  and  in  the 
varying  accounts  of  his  dying  hours  it  is  at  least  certain  that 
there  rose  up  before  him  the  picture  of  the  pious  congrega- 
tion he  had  so  ruthlessly  destroyed — a  memory  of  the  wicked- 
est of  all  his  evil  deeds. 

At  the  news  from  Vassy  the  Huguenots  rose  in  arms,  and 
for  ten  years  all  France  was  filled  with  civil  discord ;  the  fac- 
tories were  closed,  the  seats  of  industry  sunk  into  decay,  and 
the  vigor  of  the  nation  was  wasted  in  a  useless  warfare ;  the 
Duke  of  Guise,  fierce,  ambitious,  full  of  physical  and  mental 
power,  fell,  in  the  opening  of  the  contest  which  he  had  begun, 
by  the  hand  of  an  assassin.  His  death  was  charged  upon 
Coligny,  who  denied  the  accusation,  but  scarcely  condemned 
the  act.  The  war  raged  with  new  violence,  and  the  Hugue- 
nots repaid,  with  dreadful  retaliations,  the  savage  deeds  of 
their  foes.  Frequent  truces  were  made ;  the  nation  sighed  for 
peace ;  and  even  Catherine  herself  would  have  consented  to 
grant  toleration  to  reform,  would  have  aided  in  giving  harmo- 
ny and  prosperity  to  France.  But  the  Pope  and  the  Italian 
faction  still  ruled  in  the  divided  nation,  and  saw  without  a 
sentiment  of  pity  or  regret  the  horrors  they  had  occasioned, 
the  tierce  passions  they  had  aroused,  the  holy  impulses  they 
had  stifled  forever.  They  called  incessantly  for  the  total  ex- 
termination of  the  Huguenots ;(')  they  lamented  every  truce 
as  impious,  denounced  every  effort  toward  conciliation ;  they 
inculcated  a  merciless  cruelty,  an  undying  hatred.  Paul  TV., 
maddened  with  strong  wine  and  the  insanity  of  a  corrupt  old 
age,  had  instigated  the  latest  persecutions  that  led  to  the  civil 
w^ars  of  France. (^)  His  successors,  Pius  IV.  and  V.,  fanned 
the  fires  of  strife,  and  called  incessantly  for  blood ;  they  aim- 

(')  Pius  V.  to  Catherine,  April  13th,  1569,  urged  the  comi)lete  extirpation 
of  the  Huguenots.  He  pressed  Charles  IX.,  March  28th,  1569,  to  destroy 
them.  Yet  to  the  papal  historians  this  barharian  is  a  model  of  decorum, 
feee  Platina,  Vitse  Pont.,  p.  390,  etc. 

(")  Raiike  notices  Paul's  excessive  iudulgeuce  in  wine. 


270  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

ed  the  assassin's  dagger,  or  roused  the  evil  passions  of  devout 
Catholics,  by  insisting  upon  the  duty  of  repressing  heresy  by 
force ;  nor  can  there  be  found  in  liistory,  except,  perhaps, 
among  their  own  predecessors,  three  sovereigns  who  have  so 
increased  the  sum  of  human  misery — three  potentates,  in  any 
age,  who  have  less  deserved  the  name  of  Christians. 

The  teachings  of  the  Popes  and  the  violence  of  the  Catholic 
faction  led  to  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew.(')  Catherine 
de'  Medici,  weary  of  incessant  civil  war,  guided,  perhaps,  by 
her  malignant  star,  had  resolved  to  gratify  the  court  of  Rome, 
the  Guises,  and  the  Parisians  by  a  total  extermination  of  all 
those  eminent  and  generous  chiefs  who  had  so  long  defied 
the  armies  of  their  Catholic  foes.  Within  her  dark,  inscru- 
table breast  had  been  matured  a  plot  of  singular  efficacy  for 
drawing  into  her  toils  the  leaders  of  the  Huguenots ;  and  the 
lessons  she  had  learned  in  the  school  of  Macchiavelh  were 
exemplified  with  matchless  power.  It  is  impossible,  indeed, 
to  believe  that  St.  Bartholomew  was  not  premeditated  ;f )  it 
seems  certain  that  a  rumor  of  the  approaching  horror  had 
filled  the  extreme  faction  of  the  Catholics  with  secret  joy.  A 
hollow  pacification  had  been  arranged.  Catherine  proposed 
to  Jeanne  d'Albret  and  the  Huguenot  chiefs  to  complete  the 
union  of  the  two  parties  by  marrying  her  daughter  Marguerite 
with  young  Henry  of  Navarre.  Catherine's  son,  Charles  IX., 
consented  to  the  match,  and  pressed  it  in  spite  of  the  opposi- 
tion of  the  Pope;  and  in  the  summer  of  1572  the  ominous 
wedding  was  celebrated  at  Paris  with  rare  pomp  and  bound- 
less ostentation. 

Young  Henry  of  Navarre,  at  nineteen,  frank,  generous,  a 
Huguenot  in  faith  if  not  in  practice,  was  brought  up  by  his 
mother,  Jeanne,  Queen  of  Navarre,  to  be  married  to  the  daugh- 
ter of  her  bitterest  foe,  and  to  mingle  with  a  society  and  a 
court  whose  profligacy  and  corruption  she  had  ever  shrunk 

(')De  Felice,  p.  167. 

{'')  Most  nioderu  writers  have  abandoned  the  theory  of  premeditation ; 
but  the  proof  is  strong  on  the  other  side.  See  an  able  and  learned  article 
in  the  North  British  Bevietv,  St.  Bartholomew,  October,  1869 ;  and  Martin, 
,  Hist,  de  France,  x.,  p.  553. 


DEATH  OF  JEANNE  D'ALBBET.  271 

from  with  disdain.  It  would  have  been  well  for  the  austere 
queen  had  she  still  repelled  the  advances  of  her  rival.  But 
Jeanne  seems  to  have  yielded  to  the  arts  of  Catherine,  and  to 
have  believed  that  some  trace  of  womanly  tenderness  lingered 
in  the  breast  of  the  new  Medea.  She  consented,  for  the  sake 
of  the  oppressed  Huguenots,  to  suffer  her  son  to  marry  the 
child  of  the  house  of  Yalois,  and  ventured  to  come  up  to  Paris, 
the  citadel  of  her  foes.  Her  death  soon  followed.  Whether 
premature  age  filled  with  sorrows  and  doubts  had  weighed  her 
down,  sudden  disease,  or  secret  poison,  the  annalists  of  the  pe- 
riod could  not  determine ;  but  among  the  Huguenots,  shocked 
at  the  suddenness  of  their  loss,  arose  a  dark  suspicion  that  their 
favorite  queen  had  died  by  the  Italian  arts  of  Catherine.  It 
was  said  that  the  mother  of  the  expected  bride  had  poisoned 
the  mother  of  the  bridegroom  by  presenting  her  with  a  pair 
of  perfumed  gloves,  prepared  with  a  deadly  powder ;  it  was 
believed  that  the  austere  and  sjDotless  Queen  of  Navarre  had 
been  lured  into  the  Circean  circle  of  the  French  court  to  be 
made  away  with  the  more  securely.  Yet  Jeanne  d'Albret 
died,  as  she  had  lived,  a  stern  reformer,  an  example  and  a 
warning.  The  corrupt  ladies  of  Catherine's  court,  who  visit- 
ed her  in  her  last  hours,  saw  with  wonder  that  the  courageous 
queen  needed  none  of  the  customary  ceremonies  of  the  Papal 
Church.  She  asked  only  the  prayers  of  the  Huguenot  pastors 
and  the  simple  rites  of  the  apostolic  faith.(') 

Meantime  Paris  was  filled  with  a  throng  of  the  bravest  and 
noblest  of  the  reformers,  who  had  been  lured  into  the  centre 
of  their  foes.Q  Coligny,  loyal,  and  trusting  the  word  of  his 
king,  rode  boldly  into  the  fatal  snare.  Wise  and  faithful 
friends  had  warned  him  of  his  imprudence  ;  a  devoted  peasant 
woman  clung  to  his  horse's  rein  and  begged  him  not  to  trust 
to  the  deceivers;  but  no  entreaties  or  warnings  could  shake 
his  resolution.  He  was  followed  by  his  companions  in  arms, 
the  heroes  of  many  a  brilliant  contest.  But  it  was  noticed 
that  as  the  Huguenots  entered  the  city  no  cheer  of  reconcilia- 
tion arose  from  the  bigoted  citizens;  that  the  streets  were 

(')  Mdm.  Marguerite,  p.  24.  (=)  Snlly,  Mem.  i.,  p.  21-30. 


272  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

tilled  with  menacing  faces  ;  that  every  eye  was  averted  in 
hatred  and  gloom. (')  Henry  of  Navarre  and  his  cousin,  the 
Prince  of  Conde,  came  to  Paris  in  the  first  days  of  August, 
and  were  lodged  in  the  palace  of  the  Louvre.  Coligny  and 
his  followers  occupied  an  inn  or  hotel  on  the  street  of  Bresse. 
The  king,  Charles  IX.,  Catherine,  and  the  young  Duke  of 
Guise  received  their  victims  with  eager  civility,  and  Charles 
welcomed  Coligny  almost  as  a  father.  The  city  rang  with 
revelry ;  the  young  princes,  Henry,  Conde,  the  Dukes  of  Anjou 
and  AleuQon,  and  Charles  IX.,  joined  with  ardor  in  the  revels 
and  sports ;  and  Catherine,  surrounded  by  a  corrupt  train  of 
beautiful  women,  inspired  the  dreadful  hilarity. 

Paris,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  possessed  few  of  those  at- 
tractions that  have  made  it,  in  the  nineteenth,  the  most  mag- 
nificent of  cities.Q  It  was  renowned  chiefly  for  its  narrow 
and  filthy  streets,  not  paved  or  lighted,  the  perpetual  haunt  of 
fever  or  plague  ;  for  its  sordid  and  often  starving  population  ; 
and  for  the  fierce  superstition  of  its  monks  and  jjriests.  Sev- 
eral grand  hotels  of  the  nobility,  each  a  well-garrisoned  for- 
tress, arose  amidst  its  meaner  dwellings.  The  new  palace  of 
the  Louvre,  lately  built  by  Francis  I.,  was  the  residence  of  the 
court ;(')  but  the  Tuileries  was  unfinished,  and  the  Palais  Roy- 
al did  not  yet  exist ;  and  high  walls,  pierced  by  lofty  gates, 
shut  in  the  mediaeval  city  from  the  free  air  of  the  surround- 
ing plains.(^)  Yet  in  the  hot  summer  of  1572  its  streets  were 
filled  with  a  brilliant  multitude  come  up  to  witness  the  marriage 
of  Henry  and  Marguerite,  of  the  Protestant  and  the  Catholic, 
and  every  eye  was  fixed  with  curiosity  and  expectation  upon 
the  preparations  for  the  splendid  ceremony.  Henry,  the  gen- 
erous son  of  the  mountains,  was  already  renowned  for  his  cour- 
age and  his  manly  grace ;  Marguerite  was  known  only  as  the 

(')  The  Catholic  writers  deny  premeditation,  on  the  testimony  of  Anjon, 
Marguerite,  and  Tavanues.  See  De  Sancliercs,  p.  236.  But  Sorbon,  the 
king's  confessor,  proclaims  it ;  so  Cai)ilupi,  Salviati,  and  Michiel. 

(^)  Paris  Guide,  p.  557,  Le  Palais  du  Louvre. 

(')  Yet  we  could  scarcely  call  the  Louvre  a  sanctuary,  with  De  Lastey- 
rie  :  "  C'est  nn  sanctuaire,"  p.  557. 

C)  Paris  Guide,  p.  560, 


MARGUERITE'S    WEDDING.  273 

child  of  the  corrupt  Catherine.  Her  life  had  been  passed  in 
ceaseless  terror  under  the  iron  sway  of  her  mother,  the  enmity 
of  her  brother  of  Anjou,  and  the  doubtful  favor  of  Charles. 
Yet  she  had  wit  and  talent,  a  pleasing  manner,  a  graceful  per- 
son, a  natural  duplicity  encouraged  by  her  early  training ;  and 
few  of  the  virtues  of  her  namesake,  the  elder  and  purer  Mar- 
guerite, had  descended  to  her  luckless  grandniece.  But  the 
young  pair  were  still  in  the  bloom  of  youth  when  all  Paris  at- 
tended their  nuptials. 

The  wedding  was  celebrated  on  the  18th  of  August,  beneath 
a  pavilion  richly  adorned,  in  front  of  the  Church  of  !Notre 
Dame.  It  was  performed  with  neither  Protestant  nor  Cath- 
olic rites.(')  Henry,  attended  by  the  king,  Charles  IX.,  and  the 
two  royal  dukes,  all  dressed  alike  in  yellow  satin,  covered  with 
precious  stones,  and  followed  by  a  long  array  of  princes  and 
nobles,  attired  in  various  colors,  ascended  the  platform ;  the 
king  led  in  his  sister,  who  was  robed  in  violet  velvet,  em- 
broidered with  the  lilies  of  France  and  glittering  with  pearls 
and  diamonds.  Catherine  de'  Medici  followed,  surrounded  by 
a  fair,  frail  circle  of  maids  of  honor.  A  bright  summer  sun 
shone  on  the  gay  pageant  and  gleamed  over  the  towers  of 
ISTotre  Dame.  The  ceremony  was  performed  by  the  Cardinal 
Bourbon  ;  but  no  sooner  was  it  ended  than  the  bride  left  her 
husband  to  witness  mass  in  the  cathedral,  wliile  Henry  turn- 
ed sternly  away  from  the  unscriptural  rite.  In  the  evening  a 
grand  entertainment  w^as  given  in  the  Louvre;  maskers  and 
royal  and  noble  revelers  filled  its  wide  saloons,  and  for  sev- 
eral days  afterward  Paris  was  a  scene  of  strange  merriment, 
and  of  feasts  and  tourneys,  upon  which  the  wiser  Huguenots 
looked  with  grave  disdain.Q 

But  the  dreadful  day  was  near  when  the  secret  purpose  of 
the  wild  revels  was  to  be  perfectly  fulfilled.  The  week  which 
had  opened  with  the  wedding -feast  and  the  carousal  was  to 
close  in  more  than  funereal  gloom.     Charles  and  Catherine 

(')  Sully,  i.,  p.  21. 

(-)  Marguerite,  M(5moires,  Guessai'(l,Miteur,  p.  25-27,  has  described  with 
miuuteucss  the  splendor  of  her  dress  and  of  the  pageant. 

18 


274  THE  RUGVE2sOTS. 

had  constantly  assnred  the  Pope  that  the  marriage  was  only 
designed  to  insure  the  destruction  of  the  Ilngnenots.  Orders 
were  sent  to  the  Governor  of  Lyons  to  allow  no  couriers  to 
pass  on  to  Rome  until  the  2-itli  of  August.  It  was  intended 
that  the  news  of  the  wedding  and  the  massacre  should  reach 
the  Holy  Father  at  the  same  moment.(')  The  Huguenots,  un- 
conscious of  danger,  still  remained  in  Paris.  On  Friday,  the 
22d,  they  were  startled  from  their  security  by  the  first  deed 
of  crime.  Coligny  was  shot  at  by  order  of  the  young  Duke 
of  Guise,  and  was  borne  back  to  his  inn  wounded,  though 
not  mortally,  amidst  the  rage  of  his  companions  and  the  secret 
joy  of  his  foes.  In  the  hot  days  of  August,  amidst  the  noi- 
some streets  of  Paris,  the  admiral  lay  on  his  couch,  surround- 
ed by  his  bravest  followers  in  arms.  He  was  surprised  by  a 
visit  from  the  king,  who  came  to  express  his  sympathy  for  his 
suffering  friend — his  rage  at  his  treacherous  foe.  But  with 
him  came  also  Catherine,  who  wept  over  the  wounded  Coligny, 
and  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  apparently  equally  grieved,  but  who 
were  only  spies  upon  the  impulsive  king.  They  feared  that 
the  wise  and  good  Coligny  might  succeed  in  awakening  the 
better  element  in  the  nature  of  the  unhappy  Charles. 

From  this  moment  a  gloom  settled  upon  the  crowded  city, 
and  its  Catholic  people,  no  doubt,  felt  that  the  hour  of  venge- 
ance drew  near.C')  On  Saturday,  the  23d,  the  Huguenots 
could  scarcely  go  into  the  streets  without  danger.  They 
gathered  around  the  bedside  of  Coligny,  or  in  the  chamber  of 
Henry  of  Navarre,  but  seem  never  to  have  thought  of  escape. 
They  breathed  out  threats  against  the  assassin.  Guise ;  yet 
they  still  trusted  to  the  professions  of  Catherine  and  the  word 
of  the  kinc;.  Nor  does  Charles  seem  to  have  been  altoo-ether 
resolute  in  his  horrible  design.  He  wavered,  he  trembled,  he 
was  weary  of  bloodshed.  His  feeble,  imperfect  intellect  seems 
still  to   have  turned  to  his  friend  Coligny  for  support,  and 


(')  Martin,  Hist.  Fran.,  x.  This  letter  seems  of  itself  to  prove  premedi- 
tation. 

(*)  Le  Tocsiu  contre  les  Autheurs,  etc.,  Arcliives  Curieuses,  1"  s^r.,  toI. 
vii.,  p.  42-50. 


I 


CHARLES  IX.  lEBESOLUTE.  275 

Catherine  saw  -witli  secret  rage  that  some  traits  of  humanity 
and  softness  still  lino-ered  in  the  breast  she  had  striven  to 
make  as  cold  and  malevolent  as  her  own.(') 

The  August  night  of  the  23d  sunk  down  over  Paris,  and 
upon  its  narrow  streets  and  gloomy  lanes  a  strange  stillness 
rested.  The  citizens  awaited  in  silence  the  signal  for  the  mas- 
sacre of  the  Huguenots  and  the  perfect  fulfillment  of  the  con- 
stant injunctions  from  Rome.  Every  Catholic,  every  Parisian, 
knew  that  the  Popes  had  never  ceased  to  inculcate  a  general 
destruction  of  the  heretics.  The  king's  body-guard  had  been 
stationed  under  arms  in  the  city ;  the  citizens  were  provided 
with  weapons  at  the  public  cost ;  the  houses  of  the  Huguenots 
were  marked  to  guide  the  murderers  to  their  doors ;  the  Cath- 
olic assassins  were  enjoined  to  wear  a  white  cross  to  distin- 
guish them  from  their  victims.  But  while  all  was  still  with- 
out, in  a  retired  chamber  of  the  Louvre  a  scene  of  human 
passion  and  wickedness  was  exhibited  such  as  can  scarcely  be 
paralleled  in  history.  A  mother  was  urging  her  half-insane 
son  to  an  unequaled  deed  of  crime.  Charles  hesitated  to  give 
the  final  order.  Soon  after  midnight  Catherine  had  risen, 
perhaps  from  sleep,  and  gone  to  the  king's  chamber.  She 
found  Charles  irresolute,  and  excited  by  a  terrible  mental 
struggle.  He  was  probably  insane.  At  one  moment  he  cried 
out  that  he  would  call  upon  the  Huguenots  to  protect  his  life ; 
at  another  he  overwhelmed  with  reproaches  his  brother  An- 
jou,  whom  he  hated  and  feared,  and  who  had  now  entered  the 
room.  The  other  members  of  the  guilty  council — Guise,  Se- 
vers, and  their  associates — followed  and  gathered  around  the 
king.  He  still  paced  the  room  with  rapid  steps,  incapable  of 
decision.  But  Catherine,  roused  to  a  fierce  rage,  her  voice  fill- 
ed with  sinister  meaning,  told  Charles  that  it  was  too  late  to 
recede,  and  that  the  order  must  be  given.  The  king,(^)  still 
scarcely  twenty -two  years  old,  accustomed  from  infancy  to 


(')  White,  Mass.,  p.  396. 

O  Marguerite,  M^moires,  p.  29,  describes  Charles  as  "  tr^s-prndent,  et  qui 
avoit  est6  toujours  tr&s-obeissaut  h  la  roj-ne  ma  m^re,  et  iiriuce  tres-Ca- 
tholique,"  p.  31. 


276  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

tremble  before  his  mothers  glance,  his  mind  enfeebled  by  dis- 
sipation and  crime,  conscious  that  if  he  disobeyed  that  men- 
acing tone  his  own  life  was  not  safe,  and  that  Catherine  might 
remove  liim  by  her  secret  arts  to  place  her  favorite  Anjou  on 
his  throne,(')  in  a  sudden  access  of  terror  or  of  frenzy,  gave 
the  fatal  command.  From  this  moment  all  that  was  gentle 
in  his  nature  died  forever,  and  he  became  the  chief  promoter 
of  the  general  massacre,  the  active  instrument  in  the  hands  of 
unsparing  Home. 

Guise  at  once  went  swiftly  from  the  room  to  begin  the  la- 
bor of  death  by  the  murder  of  Coligny,(^)  The  clash  of  his 
horse's  hoofs  resounded  in  the  still  Sabbath  morning  as  he 
led  a  party  of  soldiers  to  the  admiral's  quarters.  Catherine, 
Charles,  and  the  other  conspirators,  terrified  at  what  they  had 
done,  kept  closely  together,  and  gathered  at  a  window  over- 
looking the  tennis  court.  "  We  were  smitten,"  says  Anjou, 
"  with  teiTor  and  foreboding,"  Catherine,  it  is  said,  even  sent 
to  recall  Guise ;  but  he  replied,  "  It  is  too  late."  Coligny  had 
been  stabbed  in  his  bed-chamber,  and  his  body  thrown  out  of 
the  window  into  the  court  below.  Many  Huguenots  perished 
wath  him.  The  death  of  the  chief  of  the  reformers  roused  the 
conspirators  to  new  energy,  and  Catherine  gave  orders  that  the 
signal  for  the  general  massacre  should  be  given  before  the  ap- 
pointed hour.  The  clock  of  the  Cliurch  of  St.  Germain  1' Aux- 
errois  sounded  over  silent  Paris.Q  Its  ominous  peal  awoke 
an  awful  clamor,  such  as  the  earth  had  never  witnessed  before. 
A  clang  of  bells  responded  from  every  tower  and  belfry  ;  the 
adherents  of  the  Pope  seized  their  arms,  rushed  to  the  houses 
of  the  Huguenots,  and  murdered  every  inmate,  from  the  sleep- 
ing infant  to  the  gray-haired  grandsire  and  the  helpless  maid. 
The  city  had  been  suddenly  illuminated,  and  from  every 
Catholic  house  the  blaze  of  torches  lighted  up  the  labor  of 

(')  Henri  de  Valois,  par  De  Noailles,  pp.  1, 2,  describes  the  endless  schemes 
of  Catherine  to  make  Anjou  king. 

(^)  Jlartin,  Hist.  Fran.,  x.,  p.  567  ;  De  Felice,  p.  164-167  ;  Sully,  Mem.,  i., 
p.  25.     They  cut  off  Coligny's  head  and  brought  it  to  Catherine. 

(')  Le  Tocsin,  Archives  Curieuses,  l""  s^r.,  vol.  vil.,  p.  54  :  "  Toute  la  ville 
fut  en  un  instant  toute  remplie  de  corps  mort.s  de  tout  sexe  et  age." 


THE  LOrVEE.  277 

death.  Beneatli  their  rays  were  seen  women  unsexed,  and 
children  endowed  with  an  unnatural  malice,  torturing  and 
treating  with  strange  malignity  the  dying  and  the  dead.  It 
is  impossible,  indeed,  to  narrate  the  details  of  this  awful  event, 
over  which  Catholic  kings  and  priests  rejoiced,  and  for  which 
the  infallible  Pope  at  Home  gave  public  thanks  to  God. 

Within  the  palace  of  the  Louvre  itself,  where  a  few  days 
before  every  saloon  had  rung  with  festivity,  and  where  mask 
and  dance  and  throngs  of  gallant  knights  and  maidens  had 
greeted  the  nuptials  of  Henry  and  Marguerite,  now  echoed 
the  groans  of  the  dying  Huguenots,  and  the  shrieks  of  the 
terrilied  queen.(')  In  the  evening  Marguerite  had  been  driven 
by  her  enraged  mother  from  her  presence  and  from  the  arms 
of  her  sister  Claude,  who  would  have  detained  her,  and  was 
forced  to  go,  trembling,  to  the  apartment  of  her  husband,  lest 
her  absence  might  excite  suspicion.  She  lay  awake  all  night, 
filled  with  a  sense  of  impending  danger.  She  pretended  that 
she  knew  nothing  of  the  approaching  event.  Henry's  rooms 
were  filled  with  his  companions  in  arms,  who  passed  the  night 
in  uttering  vain  threats  against  the  Guises,  and  planning  proj- 
ects of  revenge.  Toward  morning  they  all  went  out  in  com- 
pan}^  with  the  king;  and  Marguerite,  weary  with  watching, 
sunk  into  a  brief  slumber.  She  was  aroused  by  a  loud  cry 
without  of  "  Navarre !  ]S"avarre !"  and  a  knocking  at  the 
door.f)  It  was  thrown  open  ;  a  man,  wounded  and  bleeding, 
pursued  by  four  soldiers,  rushed  into  the  room,  and  threw 
his  arms  around  the  cpieen.  He  clung  to  her,  begging  for 
life.  She  screamed  in  her  terror.  The  captain  of  the  guai'd 
came  in  and  drove  off  the  soldiers,  and  the  wounded  Hugue- 
not was  allowed  to  hide  himself  in  her  closet.  Marguerite 
fled  hastily  across  the  halls  of  the  Louvre  to  her  sister's  room, 
and,  as  she  passed  amidst  the  scene  that  had  so  lately  rung 
with  the  masks  and  revels  of  her  wedding  night,  she  saw  an- 
other Huguenot  pierced  by  the  spear  of  his  pursuer,  and  heard 


Q)  Mdmoires,  etc.,  fie  Marguerite  de  Valois,  par.  M.  Y.  Guessard,  ^diteiir, 
p.  32.     Marguerite's  narrative  may  be  relied  ou  for  persoual  details. 
(■')  MtJm.  Marguerite,  p.  34.  ' 


278  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

the  clamor  of  the  general  massacre.  Faint  and  trembling,  she 
went  to  her  mother  and  the  king,  threw  herself  at  their  feet, 
and  beo-u-ed  the  lives  of  two  of  her  husband's  retainers. 

Meantime,  when  Henry  of  Navarre  had  left  his  room  in  the 
morning,  he  had  been  arrested,  and  carried  to  the  king's  cham- 
ber ;  but  of  the  band  of  Huguenots  who  had  attended  him 
in  the  night  only  a  few  escaped.  Each  man,  as  he  passed  out 
into  the  court,  between  two  lines  of  Swiss  guards,  was  stabbed 
without  mercy.  Two  hundred  of  the  noblest  and  purest  re- 
formers of  France  lay  piled  in  a  huge  heap  before  the  win- 
dows of  the  Louvre ;  Charles  IX.,  Catherine,  and  her  infa- 
mous train  of  maids  of  honor  inspected  and  derided  them  as 
they  lay  dead.  All  through  that  fearful  Sabbath  day,  the 
feast  of  St.  Bartholomew,  and  for  two  succeeding  days,  the 
murders  went  on;  the  whole  city  w^as  in  arms;  every  hat  or 
cap  was  marked  with  a  w^hite  cross,  and  every  Catholic  was 
converted  into  an  assassin. (')  Charles,  a  raging  lunatic,  rode 
through  the  streets,  laughing  and  jesting  over  the  fallen. 
The  streets  were  filled  with  corpses ;  the  Seine  was  turned  to 
blood ;  many  Catholics  grew  rich  by  the  plunder  of  the  Hu- 
guenots ;  and  it  was  believed  that  the  king  and  his  brother, 
Anjou,  shared  the  spoils  of  opulent  merchants  and  skillful 
goldsmiths.  The  papal  nuncio,  Salviati,  overjoyed  at  the 
spectacle,  wrote  to  the  Pope  that  nothing  was  to  be  seen  in 
the  streets  but  white  crosses,  producing  a  fine  effect ;  he  did 
not  see  the  heaps  of  dead,  nor  the  scenes  of  inexpiable  crime. 
Charles  IX.  shot  at  the  flying  Huguenots  from  his  bedroom 
window.  The  rage  of  the  murderers  was  chiefly  turned 
against  women  and  infants.f)  One  man  threw  two  little 
children  into  the  Seine  from  a  basket ;  another  infant  was 
dragged  through  the  streets  with  a  cord  tied  around  its  neck 
by  a  crowd  of  Catholic  children  ;  a  babe  smiled  in  the  face 
of  the  man  who  had  seized  it,  and  played  with  his  beard,  but 


(')  Le  Tocsiu,  a  contemporary  accouut,  describes  how  poor  shoe-makers 
and  tailors  died  for  their  faith ;  how  women  and  children  were  thrown  into 
the  Seine,  p.  57.     The  particulars  can  not  be  repeated. 

(•)  Le  Tocsin,  p.  54-57. 


THE  MASSACRE  COMMEMORATED.  279 

the  monster  stabbed  the  child,  and,  with  an  oath,  threw  it  into 
the  Seine. 

Tor  three  days  the  massacre  continued  with  excessive  atroc- 
ities. A  month  later,  Huguenots  were  still  being  murdered  in 
Paris,  It  is  computed  that  several  thousand  persons  perished 
in  that  city  alone.  In  every  part  of  the  kingdom,  by  orders 
of  the  king,  an  effort  was  made  to  exterminate  the  Hugue- 
nots ;  and  Lyons,  Orleans,  Bordeaux,  and  all  the  provincial 
towns  ran  with  blood.  Four  thousand  reformers  are  said  to 
have  been  killed  in  Lyons.  At  Bordeaux,  Auger,  the  most 
eloquent  of  the  Jesuit  preachers,  employed  all  his  powers  in 
urging  on  the  work  of  slaughter,  "  Who,"  he  cried,  "  exe- 
cuted the  divine  judgments  at  Paris  ?  The  angel  of  the  Lord. 
And  who  will  execute  them  in  Bordeaux  ?  The  angel  of  the 
Lord,  however  man  may  try  to  resist  him  !"  The  number  of 
the  slain  throughout  France  has  been  variously  estimated  at 
from  ten  to  one  hundred  thousand.  History  has  no  parallel 
to  offer  to  this  religious  massacre,  even  in  its  most  barbarous 
periods. 

The  Pope,  Gregory  XIIL,  received  the  news  of  the  fate  of 
the  Huguenots  with  unbounded  joy.(')  The  wish  of  his  heart 
had  been  gratified,  and  Charles  IX.  was  now  his  favorite  son. 
Home  rang  with  rejoicings.  The  guns  of  the  Castle  of  St,  An- 
gelo  gave  forth  a  joyous  salute ;  the  bells  sounded  from  every 
tower;  bonfires  blazed  throughout  the  night;  and  Gregory, 
attended  by  his  cardinals  and  priests,  led  the  magnificent  pro- 
cession to  the  Church  of  St.  Louis,  where  the  Cardinal  of  Lor- 
raine, the  brother  of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  chanted  a  Te  Deum. 
The  cry  of  the  dying  host  in  France  was  gentle  harmony  to 
the  Court  of  Rome,  A  medal  was  struck  to  commemorate 
the  glorious  massacre ;  a  picture,  which  still  exists  in  the  Vat- 
ican, was  painted  by  Vasari,  representing  the  chief  events  of 
St,  Bartholomew.  The  Pope,  eager  to  show  his  gratitude  to 
Charles  for  his  dutiful  conduct,  sent  him  the  Golden  Rose ; 
and  from  the  pulpits  of  Rome  eloquent  preachers  celebrated 

(')  Lo  Tocsin,  p.  76:  "Louaut  Dieu  qn'a  sou  a(lveii6ment  a  la  i>apaut6 
uue  si  bonue  et  lieiireiise  uouvelles  s'6tait  pi'^seutde." 


280  THE  HUGVENOTS. 

Charles,  Catherine,  and  the  Gnises  as  the  new  founders  of  the 
Papal  Church.(') 

But  from  every  Protestant  land  one  cry  of  reproach  and 
detestation  arose  against  those  royal  murderers  and  assassins 
who  had  covered  with  infamy  their  country,  and  even  their 
age.  The  intelligent  were  affrighted  at  a  barbarity  that  seem- 
ed worthy  only  of  an  Attila  or  an  Alaric ;  the  humane  and 
the  good  looked  upon  the  massacre  in  France  as  something 
portentous  and  almost  incredible.  Clothed  in  mourning,  with 
every  eye  turned  away  in  gloom  and  aversion,  the  English  court 
and  its  Protestant  queen  received  the  French  embassador,  La 
Mothe  Fcnelon,  after  the  intelligence  of  the  fatal  event ;  and 
the  envoy  himself,  touched  with  shame,  confessed  that  he 
blushed  for  his  country.  The  mild  Emperor  of  Germany, 
Maximilian  II.,  lamented  that  his  son-in-law,  Charles  IX.,  had 
incurred  such  an  overwhelming  load  of  guilt.  The  Protest- 
ant powers  of  the  North  joined  in  the  general  condemnation. 
Philip  II.  of  Spain  alone  laughed  aloud — for  the  only  time, 
it  is  said — when  he  heard  how  well  Catherine  had  performed 
her  task.  Yet  Catherine  herself  soon  found  that  her  bloody 
deed  was  only  injurious  to  herself.  She  hated  the  Guises, 
she  feared  Philip  II.,  she  despised  the  Pope;  but  to  them 
alone  could  she  now  look  for  suj^port  and  countenance.  New 
dangers  thickened  around  her.  The  Huguenots,  enraged  at 
the  massacre,  rose  once  more  in  arms ;  the  sympathy  of  En- 
gland encouraged  the  revolt ;  Catherine  endeavored  to  excuse 
or  explain  her  share  in  the  massacre,  and  discovered  that  she 
had  committed  a  great  crime  in  vain.Q 

But  upon  the  feeble  intellect  of  her  unhappy  son  the  effect 
of  the  dreadful  deed  he  had  witnessed  and  directed  was  fatal. 
The  fierce  excitement  had  scarcely  passed  away  when  his 
health  began  to  decline.     His  mind  was  torn  by  remorse  and 

(')  It  was  the  working-men  who  had  chiefly  snffered  by  the  massacre. 
At  Meaux  "iiue  grand  uonibie  d'artisans"  sufibicd.  The  murders  were 
joined  with  general  robbery.     See  Alberi,  Vita  Cat.  Med.,  p.  147. 

C)  Alberi,  p.  382.  She  makes  Charles  IX.  declare  that  it  was  a  political 
conspiracy  that  produced  the  massacre;  to  Philip  II.  she  wrote  on  the  29th 
of  August,  thanking  God  for  his  mercy. 


THE  EDICT  OF  NAXTES.  281 

terror ;  his  conscience  never  slept.  Around  him  in  the  air  he 
lieard  strange  noises  hke  the  voices  of  the  dying  Huguenots. 
The  ghosts  of  the  murdered  stood  by  his  bedside ;  his  room 
seemed  suffused  with  blood.  His  nurse  who  had  reared  him 
when  an  infant  was  a  Huguenot,  and  now  watched  over  him 
as  he  was  dying.  "  Oh,  nurse !"  he  cried  to  her,  amidst  sobs 
and  tears,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  am  lost !  I  am  lost !"  She 
tried  to  soothe  him  with  the  liope  that  repentance  and  a  Sav- 
iour's righteousness  might  save  his  guilty  soul.  Catherine 
came  to  him  soon  after  with  the  good  news  of  the  capture  of 
one  of  her  enemies.  "  Madame,"  he  said,  "  such  things  con- 
cern me  no  longer.  I  am  dying."  He  received  the  last  rites 
of  the  Eoman  Church,  and  died  soon  after,  Catherine's  fa- 
vorite son,  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  for  whom  she  had  plotted  and 
schemed  with  incessant  labors,  now  became  king,  and  it  Avas 
believed  that  the  miserable  Charles  had  been  carried  off  by 
poison  administered  by  his  mother. 

Catherine  died,  her  son  was  assassinated,  her  guilty  race 
faded  from  the  earth,  and  Henry  of  ISTavarre  became  King 
of  France.  In  1598  the  Edict  of  Xantes  gave  peace  to  the 
Huguenots,  and  once  more  a  period  of  progress  and  reform 
opened  upon  the  prosperous  realm.  In  the  dawn  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  tl\ere  was  still  hope  for  France.  Vigorous, 
energetic,  industrious,  intellectual,  the  Huguenot  element  in 
the  nation  began  rapidly  to  sweep  away  the  barbarism  of  the 
age.  The  reformers  were  everywhere  active.  They  incul- 
cated industry,  and  soon  in  every  part  of  France  grew  up 
flourishing  manufactures  and  a  valuable  trade.(')  The  moral 
vigor  of  the  people  was  renewed  ;  honesty,  purity,  and  mental 
culture  supplanted  the  barren  dreams  of  chivalry  and  the  cor- 
ruption and  indolence  of  the  Catholic  rule.  Great  Protestant 
churches  were  erected,  in  which  immense  congregations  list- 
ened to  their  accomplished  preachers  and  heard  lessons  of 
virtue  and  self-restraint.     To  be  as  "  honest  as  a  Huguenot " 

(')  Smiles,  Hugneuots,  p.  130.  "  The  Huguenots  were  exoollent  form- 
ers; manufactured  silk,  velvet,  paper,  and  a  great  number  of  other  arti- 
cles.    See  Weiss,  Hist,  of  the  Freuch  Protestaut  Refugees,  p.  27. 


2S2  TEE  HUGUEXOTS. 

was  a  common  proverb.  To  be  industrious,  frugal,  generous, 
sincere,  was  discovered  to  be  far  better  than  to  be  a  Conde  or 
a  Montmorency.  The  period  of  progress  continued  long  aft- 
er the  death  of  Henry  IV. ;  and  even  Richelieu,  who  crushed 
the  Huguenots  forever  as  a  political  party,  never  sought  to 
extirpate  them  wholly.  In  the  dawn  of  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.  the  nation  still  advanced  under  the  inlluence  of  Hugue- 
not principles,  and  the  most  eminent  men  of  the  age  belonged 
to  the  party  of  reform.  The  wise  Colbert  was  a  Huguenot ;(') 
the  poets,  orators,  and  authors  of  the  day  reflected  the  vigor  of 
the  new  movement;  the  Protestant  schools  and  colleges  in- 
spired with  new  life  the  fading  intellect  of  France.(°) 

Then  once  more  the  tyrannical  hand  of  Rome  was  stretched 
forth  to  crush  the  rising  impulse  of  reform.  But  it  was  now 
the  disciples  of  Loyola  and  Lainez  that  aroused  the  last  great 
persecution  of  the  Huguenots.  Louis  XIY.,  in  the  latter  pe- 
riod of  his  reign,  guided  by  the  counsels  of  the  Chancellor 
Le  Tellier  and  the  Jesuit  Pere  La  Chaise,  resolved  to  win  the 
favor  of  Heaven  by  a  complete  destruction  of  the  heretics. 
Madame  De  Maintenon,  herself  once  a  Huguenot,  confirmed 
the  malevolence  of  the  king,  and  grew  rich  by  the  plunder  of 
tlie  reformers.  Slowly  the  cloud  of  ruin  gathered  around  all 
those  fair  and  prosperous  communities  that  had  sprung  up 
under  the  influence  of  the  new  faith.  The  Huguenots  foresaw 
with  hopeless  alarm  their  own  final  destruction.  They  held 
in  their  hands  the  commerce,  manufactures,  and  the  wealth  of 
tlie  nation  ;  but  they  were  comparatively  few  in  numbers,  and 
had  no  longer  any  hope  of  resistance.  Their  churches  were 
torn  down ;  their  printing  -  presses  were  silenced ;  they  were 
forbidden  to  sing  psalms  on  land  or  water ;  were  only  allowed 
to  bury  their  dead  at  night  or  at  day-break  ;  and  were  oppress- 
ed by  all  the  malicious  devices  of  the  Jesuit  fathers.  Yet 
they  submitted  patiently,  and  still  hoped  to  soften  the  rage  of 
their  enemies  by  holy  lives  and  Christian  charity.  Stricken  by 
a  mortal  disease.  Chancellor  Le  Tellier,  from  his  bed  of  death, 

(')  Smiles,  Huguenots,  p.  135.    Colbert  "was  honest,  and  died  poor. 
(-)  Martin,  Hist.  Fran.,  xiv.,  p.  667  d  scq. ;  Stephens. 


IXEUMAN  OEATOES.  283 

prayed  the  king  to  revoke  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  extirpate 
the  Huguenots. (')  He  died  rejoicing  that  he  had  once  more 
awakened  the  iires  of  persecution.  Louis  XIY.  obeyed  tlie 
commands  of  the  Jesuits,  and  repealed  (1685)  the  edict  of 
toleration  that  had  alone  given  hope  to  France.  A  wide 
scene  of  horror  spread  over  the  flourishing  realm.  Every 
Huguenot  dwelling  was  invaded  by  fierce  dragoons,  (')  the 
wealth  of  the  industrious  reformers  was  snatched  from  them 
by  the  indolent  and  envious  Catholics ;  the  manufactories 
were  deserted,  flourishing  cities  sunk  into  ruin  ;  and  such 
crimes  were  perpetrated  by  the  savage  soldiers  of  Louis  as  can 
only  be  paralleled  in  the  various  persecutions  instigated  by 
the  Popes  of  Kome.  Yet  the  king  and  his  courtiers  found 
only  a  cruel  joy  in  the  sufferings  of  the  people.  Even  litera- 
ture, the  faded  product  of  the  corrupt  age,  celebrated  Louis 
as  the  destroyer  of  heresy ;  and  the  infamous  band  of  gifted 
preachers  who  adorn  and  disgrace  this  period  of  human  woe 
united  in  adoring  the  wisdom  of  their  master  and  the  piety 
of  the  Jesuits.  Bossuet,  with  rare  eloquence  and  singular  in- 
humanity, triumphed  in  the  horrors  of  persecution ;  Massillon 
repeated  the  praises  of  the  pitiless  Louis;  Flechier,  the  pride 
of  the  Komish  pulpit,  exulted  in  the  dreadful  massacres; 
Bourdaloue  was  sent  to  preach  in  the  bleeding  and  desolate 
provinces,  and  obeyed  without  remonstrance ;  and  the  whole 
Catholic  priesthood  were  implicated  in  the  fearful  crimes  of 
that  fatal  period.(')  The  wise,  the  good,  the  gentle  Huguenots 
became  the  prey  of  the  vile,  the  cruel,  and  the  proud. 

C)  Sismondi,  xxv.,  p.  514. 

C)  "  Les  dragous  out  6t6  de  tres-bous  missionuaires,"  wrote  Madame  Do 
Maiutenou,  Sismondi,  XXV.,  p.  521;  aud  she  bought  up  at  a  low  price  the 
estates  of  the  exiled  Hugueuots. 

C)  Hist.  Fanat.,  1G92,  par  M.  De  Brueys;  Archives  Curieuses,  vol.  ii.,  P- 
318.  Bossuet,  Oraison  funebre  de  Michel  Le  Tellier,  p.  333.  Flcchiir 
boasted  that  Le  Tellier  had  given  the  last  blow  to  the  dying  sect.  Orai- 
son funebre  de  M.  Le  Tellier,  1686,  p.  354.  The  inhumanity  of  Massillon, 
Bourdaloue,  Bossuet,  and  F16chier  makes  them  responsible  for  the  horrors 
of  the  dragounades.  Eminent  in  eloquence,  in  cruelty  they  were  still  bar- 
barians. F6n61on  alone  protested  against  the  persecution.  Kaciue  vent- 
ured to  assail  covertly  the  persecutor. 


284  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

Nothing  is  more  remarkable  in  history  than  the  constant 
liostility  the  Church  of  Rome  has  always  shown  toward  the 
working-classes  —  the  fatal  result  of  Catholic  influence  upon 
industry  and  thrift.  Ghent,  Bruges,  and  Antwerp,  under  the 
rule  of  Alva  and  the  Jesuits,(')  saw  their  commerce  and  manu- 
factures sink  forever,  and  their  laboring-classes  fly  to  Amster- 
dam and  Leyden.  Spain  and  Italy,  under  the  destructive  activ- 
ity of  the  Popes  and  the  Inquisition,  were  soon  reduced  from 
the  highest  prosperity  to  a  low  rank  in  commerce  and  trade. 
Swarms  of  monks  and  nuns  took  the  place  of  honest  laborers, 
and  industry  was  extirpated  to  maintain  the  corrupted  Church. 
It  was  only  when  England  ceased  to  be  Catholic  that  it  began 
to  lead  the  world  in  letters  and  in  energy.  It  was  when  Ger- 
many had  thrown  oft"  the  papal  rule  that  it  produced  a  Goethe 
and  a  Schiller,  and  in  the  present  day  the  traveler  is  everywhere 
struck  by  a  remarkable  dissimilarity.  In  Catholic  Ireland  all 
is  sloth  and  decay,  empty  pride  and  idle  superstition.  In  Prot- 
estant Ireland  all  is  life,  energy,  and  progress.  A  Catholic 
canton  of  Switzerland  is  always  noted  for  its  degraded  labor- 
ing-class, their  indolence  and  vice.  The  Protestant  cantons 
abound  in  all  the  traits  of  advance.  The  Roraao^na  and  the 
Papal  States,  so  long  as  they  remained  under  the  rule  of  the 
Popes,  were  the  centres  of  sloth,  improvidence,  and  crime,  and 
brigands  ruled  over  desolate  fields  that  might  have  glowed 
with  abundant  harvests.  In  France,  under  Louis  XIV.,  the 
whole  energy  of  the  Jesuits  and  the  king  was  directed  to  the 
ruin  of  the  laboring  -  classes,  and  their  vigorous  efforts  were 
followed  by  a  signal  success.  Seldom  has  so  dreadful  a  revul- 
sion fallen  upon  the  industrial  population  of  any  nation.  It 
was  as  if  the  factories  of  Lowell  or  JNIanchester  were  suddenly 
closed,  and  half  their  population  murdered  or  sent  into  exile ; 
as  if  every  Protestant  were  driven  from  New  York,  and  every 
warehouse  plundered  in  Boston.  Hundreds  of  factories  were 
desti'oyed,  many  villages  were  deserted,  many  large  towns  half 
depopulated,  and  great  districts  of  the  richest  land  in  Fi-ance 

(')  Soe  Relation  d'Antoine  Tiepolo,  p.  143.     They  had  revolted  to  save 
their  commerce  aud  industry. 


PEIESTS  PERSECUTE  INDUSTRY.  285 

became  once  more  a  wilderness.(')  At  Tours,  of  forty  thou- 
sand persons  employed  in  the  silk  manufacture,  scarcely  four 
thousand  remained;  the  population  of  jS^antes  was  reduced 
one-half  ;  it  is  estimated(°)  that  one  hundred  thousand  persons 
perished  in  Languedoc  alone,  one-tenth  of  them  by  fire,  stran- 
gulation, or  the  rack !  Such  was  the  victory  of  the  faith  over 
which  Massillon,  Bossuet,  and  Bourdaloue  broke  forth  into  loud 
applause ;  for  which  they  celebrated  the  miserable  king,  with 
whose  vices  they  were  perfectly  familiar,  as  the  restorer  of  the 
Church.  "  Let  our  acclamations  ascend  to  heaven,"  said  Bos- 
suet, "  let  us  greet  this  new  Coustantine,  this  exterminator  of 
the  heretics,  and  say, '  King  of  heaven,  preserve  the  king  of 
earth.' "  "At  the  first  blow  dealt  by  the  great  Louis,"  cried 
Massillon  over  the  general  massacre,  "  heresy  falls,  disappears, 
and  bears  its  malice  and  its  bitterness  to  foreign  lands."(^) 

Rome  and  the  Pope,  too,  were  eloquent  in  congratulation 
over  the  ruin  of  the  working -classes  of  France.  Te  Deums 
were  sung;  processions  moved  from  shrine  to  shrine;  the 
Pope  addressed  a  letter  to  Louis  filled  with  his  praises.(^)  The 
whole  Romish  Church  rejoiced  in  the  slaughter  of  the  heretics. 
Public  thanksgivings  were  offered  at  Paris;  medals  were 
struck  to  commemorate  the  fortunate  event ;  a  brazen  statue 
was  erected  to  Louis  on  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  with  a  brief  Latin 
inscription,  "  To  the  asserter  of  the  dignity  of  kings  and  of  the 
Church."  During  the  Revolution  it  was  converted  into  can- 
non, to  be  aimed  against  the  throne  and  the  priesthood. 

There  now  occurred  in  the  course  of  their  annals  that  won- 
derful spectacle  of  heroism  and  devotion,  the  flight  of  the  Hu- 
guenots from  France.(')     The  pure,  the  wise,  the  good,  the  no- 

Q)  Smiles,  Huguenots,  p.  169.     Weiss,  i.,  p.  116. 

(^)  By  Boulainvers,  De  Felice,  p.  340. 

(')  I  have  abridged  the  eloquence  of  the  two  inhuman  preachers.  La 
Libert^  de  la  Conscieuce,  J.  Simon,  j).  186,  ventures  to  mention  their  dis- 
grace. 

(0  Weiss,  i.,  p.  125. 

(^)  Weiss,  Hist,  des  Rdfiigi^s  Protestants  de  France,  describes  the  period 
from  Henry  IV.,  the  revocation,  the  emigration.  He  has  been  freely  used 
bv  later  writers. 


2S6  TEE  HUGUENOTS. 

ble,  the  "wealthy  or  the  poor,  animated  by  a  common  resolution 
to  preserve  their  faith  at  the  cost  of  all  they  held  dear,  re- 
solved to  abandon  their  native  land  and  throw  themselves 
npon  the  charity  of  strangers.  From  every  part  of  France,  in 
mournful  processions,  in  secret,  by  night,  in  strange  disguises, 
and  in  fearful  sufferings  and  dangers,  great  companies  of  men, 
women,  children,  made  their  way  to  the  frontiers.  No  sever- 
ity could  restrain  them;  no  oifers  of  emolument  or  favors 
could  induce  them  to  accept  the  Romish  creed.  Louis  and  his 
priestly  advisers  dispatched  the  tierce  dragoons  in  pursuit  of 
the  fugitives,  and  filled  the  galleys  and  the  prisons  with  their 
helpless  captives.  The  unparalleled  enormities  inflicted  upon 
the  flying  Huguenots  can  scarcely  be  described  in  liistor3\(') 
Yet  still  the  wonderful  flight  went  on.  Powerful  nobles,  the 
owners  of  great  estates,  left  their  ancestral  homes,  and,  through 
a  thousand  dangers,  escaped  impoverished  to  Germany  and 
Switzerland.  Fair  and  gentle  women,  accustomed  to  the  ease 
and  luxury  of  the  chateau  and  the  city,  stole  forth  disguised, 
often  in  the  midst  of  winter,  and  thought  themselves  happy  if, 
clambering  over  the  snow -clad  hills,  and  wandering  through 
the  wild  forest  of  Ardennes,  they  could  at  last  reach,  with 
broken  health  and  exhausted  resources,  a  shelter  in  the  free 
cities  of  Holland.  Two  young  ladies  of  Bergerac,  disguised  as 
boys,  set  out  on  the  perilous  journey.  It  was  winter;  yet 
they  plunged  bravely  into  the  forest  of  Ardennes,  on  foot,  and 
with  Avonderful  constancy  pressed  on  beneath  the  dripping 
trees,  along  the  woodland  roads,  oj^pressed  by  hunger,  cold, 
privation ;  and  for  thirty  leagues  joyfully  pursued  their  dan- 
gerous way.  Their  constancy  never  wavered  ;  they  were  sus- 
tained by  the  hope  of  approaching  freedom.  But  the  guards 
seized  them  as  they  approached  the  frontier,  and  threw  them 
into  prison.  Their  sex  was  discovered ;  they  were  tried,  con- 
demned, and  shut  up  for  the  remainder  of  their  lives  in  the 
Convent  of  the  Repentants  at  Paris. 

The  Lord  of  Castelfranc,  near  Rochelle,  with  his  wife  and 
family,  set  out  in  an  open  boat  to  escape  to  England.     He  was 

(')  See  Mduioires  d'un  Protestant  condamnd  aux  Galores. 


GENEROUS    GENEVA.  287 

overtaken.  Three  of  his  sons  and  three  of  his  daughters  were 
sent  as  slav^es  to  the  Caribbean  Islands ;  three  other  daughters 
were  held  some  time  in  confinement,  and  were  then  allowed  to 
escape  to  Geneva.  The  slaves  were  finally  liberated,  and  the 
family  were  afterward  reunited  in  England.  The  two  Misses 
Rabotean,  who  lived  near  Rochelle,  refused  to  become  con- 
verts to  Komanism,  and  were  then  offered  the  alternative  of 
marrying  two  Roman  Catholics  or  being  shut  up  for  life  in  a 
convent.(')  They  resolved  to  fly.  Their  uncle,  who  was  a 
wine-merchant,  inclosed  each  young  lady  in  a  large  cask,  and 
thus  conveyed  them  on  board  one  of  his  ships.  They  reach- 
ed Dublin  in  safety,  married,  and  several  eminent  and  gifted 
Englishmen  trace  their  origin  to  the  brave  fugitives. 

Geneva,  the  city  of  Calvin,  showed  unbounded  generosity  to 
the  distressed  Huguenots,  and  from  its  narrow  resources  con- 
tributed large  sums  to  maintain  the  hapless  strangers.  The 
Catholics  looked  upon  it  with  singular  aversion.  The  inhu- 
man saint,  Francis  de  Sales,  had  in  vain  called  out  for  its  de- 
struction. "All  the  enterprises,"  he  exclaimed,  " undertaken 
against  the  Holy  See  and  the  Catholic  prince  have  their  be- 
ginning at  Geneva."(*)  To  destroy  Geneva,  he  thought,  would 
dissipate  heresy.  But  Holland,  Prussia,  and  at  length  England, 
were  scarcely  less  active,  and  in  every  part  of  Protestant  Eu- 
rope the  industrious  Huguenots  planted  the  germs  of  prosper- 
ity and  reform.  Huguenots  filled  the  army  with  which  Wil- 
liam of  Orange  invaded  England ;  they  fought  in  the  campaigns 
of  Marlborough,  and  aided  in  bringing  to  shame  the  last  days  of 
their  persecutor,  Louis.  They  wandered  to  America,  and  found- 
ed prosperous  settlements  in  New  York  and  South  Carolina. 

A  Protestant  seigneur,  Dumont  de  Bostaquet,  has  described 
the  sufferings  of  a  noble  Huguenot  family  in  the  reign  of  Lou- 
is XIY.  His  ancestral  chateau  stood  amidst  the  richest  fields 
of  Normandy.(')     Around  it  on  all  sides  spread  out  the  wide 

(')  Smiles,  Huguenots. 

(*)  Vie  de  St.  Francois  de  Sales,  Lyons,  1633,  pp.  120, 121. 

(')  Mdmoires  in^dites  de  Dumont  de  Bostaquet,  Paris,  1864.  These 
memoirs  were  preserved  by  the  author's  descendants,  and  have  but  lately 
been  published. 


288  THE   VAUDOIS. 

and  splendid  domain  of  his  ancient  race.  The  chateau  was 
adorned  with  costly  hangings  and  the  rarest  furniture ;  its 
pleasure-grounds  and  gardens  sloped  gradually  away  and  were 
lost  in  a  girdle  of  woodlands.  His  plate  was  of  great  value ; 
his  stable  tilled  with  horses  of  unrivaled  speed;  his  gilded 
coach,  attended  by  outriders  and  musketeers,  was  conspicuous 
at  the  gatherings  of  the  provincial  nobility  of  Normandy. 

For  thirty  years  the  life  of  the  Protestant  lord  had  glided 
on  in  opulence  and  ease ;  a  family  of  sons  and  daughters  had 
grown  up  around  him,  gifted,  intelligent,  refined ;  and  his 
stately  chateau  was  often  the  scene  of  masks  and  gay  carous- 
als. It  does  not  seem  that  the  Ilnguenot  chiefs  were  marked 
by  any  puritanic  austerity.  The  family  at  Bostaquet  were 
fond  of  merry  entertainments  and  Christmas  revels;  the  hunt- 
ing-horn often  sounded  through  their  broad  donuiins;  and 
young  ladies,  queens  of  the  chase,  gave  the  last  blow  to  the 
panting  stag.  The  chateau  resounded  with  mirth  and  gallant- 
ry, with  music,  dance,  and  song ;  and  the  Protestants  mingled 
without  distinction  with  their  Roman  Catholic  neighbors. 

At  length,  in  1687,  the  storm  of  persecution  broke  over  the 
quiet  scenes  of  JSTormandy ;  a  line  of  dragoons  surrounded  the 
Protestant  district ;  each  avenue  of  escape  was  closed  ;  and 
tlie  alternative  was  offered  to  every  heretic  of  recantation  or 
imprisonment,  and  perhaps  deatli.  The  dragoons  committed 
the  most  horrible  atrocities  ;  the  Huguenot  chateaux  were 
sacked  and  burned  ;  the  noblest  families  were  often  treated 
with  barbarous  indignities  until  they  accepted  the  Romish 
faith.  Bostaquet  at  first  yielded  to  the  powerful  temptation. 
He  looked,  perliaps,  on  his  wife  and  happy  children ;  on  his 
fair  estate  he  had  so  loved  to  enlarge  ;  on  his  pleasure-grounds 
and  gardens,  planted  under  his  care ;  on  the  scenes  of  his 
youth  and  liis  ancestral  home ;  and  obeyed  the  commands  of 
the  persecutors.  For  the  iirst  time  in  the  cliateau  of  Bosta- 
quet the  priest  and  the  Jesuit  ruled  unrestrained,  and  the 
unhappy  family  were  even  compelled  to  attend  mass.(')     But 

(')  The  Jesuits  were  always  the  leaders  in  all  the  worst  persecutions. 
M^moires  d'un  Protestant  coudauind  aux  Galferes,  p.  3 :  "  Les  J^suites  et  les 
pr^tres — ces  impitoyables  et  j^chai'nds  persdcuteurs." 


THE  SEIGNEUR  BOSTAQUET.  289 

conscience  awoke ;  the  saddened  countenances  of  the  seigneur 
and  his  sons  and  daughters  showed  their  abhorrence  of  the 
feigned  conversion ;  and  parents  and  children  watched  for  the 
happy  moment  when,  abandoning  their  home  and  ancestral 
lands,  they  might  escape,  impoverished  exiles,  to  England. 

One  fair  summer  day,  from  the  ancient  chateau  set  out  a 
band  of  pilgrims,  on  whom  rested  the  radiance  of  a  perfect 
faith.  At  the  head  went  the  Seigneur  Bostaquet ;  his  moth- 
er,- eighty  years  old,  rode  by  his  side,  and  was  the  most  ardent 
of  all  the  pious  company ;  his  sous  and  daughters,  of  various 
ages,  followed ;  many  friends  and  fugitives  joined  the  caval- 
cade as  they  made  their  way  to  the  sea-coast.  The  evening 
was  charming ;  the  moon  shone  bright  and  full ;  the  emi- 
grants moved  on  cheerfully  in  the  cool  night  air,  and  rejoiced 
at  the  prospect  of  the  sea.  The  old  lady  of  eighty,  with  her 
daughters  and  her  grandchildren,  sat  on  the  shingle  of  the 
beach  watching  beneath  the  moonlight  for  the  ship  that  was 
to  carry  her  away  forever  from  her  native  land. 

A  loud  outcry  arose,  and  a  band  of  robbers,  or  coast-guards, 
attacked  the  unprotected  Huguenots.  Bostaquet  and  his 
friends  seized  their  pistols,  and  drove  off  their  assailants. 
But  they  soon  came  back ;  Bostaquet  was  wounded,  and  was 
forced  to  abandon  his  family  and  ride  for  life  toward  the 
frontier.  Accompanied  by  a  friend,  he  made  his  way  over 
the  hostile  country,  often  aided,  however,  by  generous  Cath- 
olics; crossed  mountains,  woods,  and  rivers,  and  reached  at 
length  the  shelter  of  friendly  Holland.  The  ladies  on  the 
beach  were  seized  by  the  coast-guard  and  shut  up  in  convents, 
from  whence  they  afterward  escaped  to  England.  Bostaquet's 
large  estates  were  ■  confiscated,  his  servants  sent  to  the  gal- 
leys, his  family  ruined ;  but  he  distinguished  himself  as  an 
officer  in  the  army  of  William  HI.,  and  lived  prosperously  for 
many  years  in  Ireland. 

A  yet  more  dreadful  fate  than  loss  of  home  and  country 
awaited  those  unlucky  Huguenots  who  were  arrested  in  their 
efforts  to  escape.(')    They  were  condemned  at  once  to  the  gal- 

(')  De  Felice,  p.  337. 
19 


290  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

leys.  The  French  galleys  were  vessels  usually  a  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  long  and  forty  wide.  They  were  employed  to  guard 
the  coasts,  and  sometimes  to  attack  English  cruisers  that  ap- 
proached the  shore.  Along  each  side  of  the  galley  ran  a 
bench  or  seat,  to  which  the  slaves  were  fastened  by  an  iron 
chain  around  one  leg,  and  of  sufficient  length  to  allow  them 
to  sleep  on  the  deck  beneath.  Here  they  remained  night  and 
day,  exposed  to  the  torrid  heat  or  the  winter's  cold,  half  fed, 
and  urged  on  by  blows  and  imprecations  in  the  painful  task 
of  pulling  the  heavy  oars.  In  these  floating  dungeons,  sur- 
rounded by  convicts  and  criminals  of  the  deepest  guilt,  the 
pure  and  gentle  Huguenots  sometimes  continued  for  ten  or 
twenty  years,  chained  to  the  bench,  or  often  died  of  exposure 
or  the  enemy's  shot,  and  were  flung  ignominiously  into  the 
sea.  Old  men  of  seventy  years  or  boys  of  fifteen  or  sixteen 
soon  yielded  to  the  fearful  toil ;  but  others,  more  vigorous 
and  mature,  endured  long  years  of  torture,  and  were  at  last 
released  at  the  instance  of  the  Protestant  powers.  The  caj)- 
tains  of  the  galleys  usually  treated  their  galley-slaves  with 
barbarous  severity.  They  scourged  their  bare  backs  to  make 
them  row  with  speed ;  they  threw  them  on  the  deck,  and  had 
them  beaten  for  trivial  faults.  Emaciated,  faint,  and  feeble, 
the  poor  slave  often  sunk  beneath  the  blows  and  died,  happy 
to  escape  from  the  intolerable  torments  inflicted  by  the  state- 
ly and  gracious  Louis. 

But  the  most  unsparing  of  their  tormentors  was  usually  the 
chaplain  or  priest  of  tlie  galley.(')  He  was  almost  always  a 
Jesuit.  The  disciples  of  Loyola  were  thought  peculiarly  fitted 
for  this  unattractive  task.  It  seems  to  have  been  the  duty  of 
the  chaplain  to  see  that  the  Huguenots  were  not  spared  in 
any  one  of  their  suflierings,  and  to  strive  to  induce  them  to 
recant  by  incessant  cruelty  and  blows.f )  Yet  such  was  the 
wonderful  constancy  of  these  faithful  martyrs  that  they  chose 


(^)  Les  Forgats  pour  la  Foi,  par  A.  Coquerel  Fils,  Paris,  1866. 

(^)M6moires  d'un  Protestant  couclanin6  aux  Galores,  p.  362.  The  mis- 
sionaries or  disciples  of  St.Vinceut  de  Paul  seem  to  have  been  equally  cru- 
el with  the  Jesuits. 


THE  GALLEY-SLAVES.  291 

rather  all  the  pains  of  their  sad  condition  than  to  accept  an 
idolatrous  mass.  "With  one  word  of  recantation,  they  were 
offered  a  release  from  all  their  sufferings ;  with  one  feigned 
submission,  they  might  have  been  free.  No  promises  moved 
them  from  their  resolution ;  no  artful  insinuations  could  de- 
ceive them  into  insincerity.  "  You  must  know,"  said  Father 
Garcin,  a  priest,  to  the  maimed  and  bleeding  Marteilhe,  who 
has  left  an  account  of  his  imprisonment — "  you  must  perceive 
that  the  Church  has  no  share  in  this  matter.  You  are  jDun- 
ished  for  disobedience  to  the  king."  "  But  suppose,"  he  re- 
plied, "  we  wish  for  time  to  reflect,  could  we  not  be  set  free  ?" 
"By  no  means,"  said  tlie  priest;  "you  shall  never  leave  the 
galleys  until  you  recant."  And  he  ordered  tlieir  torments  to 
be  redoubled.  It  was  the  Church  that  instigated  the  barbar- 
ity of  the  king.(') 

In  the  galleys  might  be  seen  for  many  years  a  sacred  com- 
pany of  the  purest,  the  most  refined,  and  the  most  intelligent 
of  the  French.  The  men  who  might  have  saved  and  reform- 
ed the  nation  were  chained,  in  horrible  torture,  amidst  robbers 
and  assassins.  Marolles,  once  counselor  to  the  king,  by  the 
express  order  of  Louis,  was  secured  by  a  heavy  chain  around 
his  neck,  and  compiled  his  "  Discourse  on  Providence  "  while 
fastened  to  the  oar.Q  Huber,  father  of  three  illustrious  sons, 
was  also  a  galley-slave.  The  Baron  De  Caumont,  at  the  age 
of  seventy,  labored  with  the  rest.  But  few  ministers  of  the 
reformed  faith  were  found  among  the  number,  since,  if  capt- 
ured, they  were  usually  put  to  death.  More  than  a  thousand 
Huguenots  appear  on  the  list  of  galley-slaves,  and  it  is  be- 
lieved that  the  real  number  has  never  been  told.  At  length, 
in  1713,  at  the  solicitation  of  Queen  Anne,  the  sad  remnant  of 
the  saintly  band  were  set  free  from  their  tortures,  and  came, 
maimed  and  feeble,  to  Geneva.  That  noble  and  ever-honored 
city  received  the  miserable  exiles  with  fond  congratulations 


(')  M6moires  tVun  Protestant  condamn^  aux  Galores,  Paris,  1864,  p.  362. 
"  Ou  pent  voir,"  says  Marteilhe,  "  parla  le  caract^re  diabolique  de  ces  mis- 
sionnaires  fourbes  et  cruels." 

C)  Weiss,  i.,  p.  100. 


292  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

and  overflowing  bounty.  The  magistrates,  the  clergy,  and  a 
large  part  of  the  population  came  out  from  the  gates  and  wel- 
comed the  galley-slaves  as  they  approached  the  walls ;  they 
were  covered  with  honors  and  glad  felicitations ;  and  every 
citizen  took  to  his  arms  some  one  of  the  band  of  martyrs,  and 
bore  him  proudly  and  fondly  to  the  comfort  and  luxury  of  his 
Protestant  home.  With  the  flight  of  the  Huguenots  a  gen- 
eral decay  settled  upon  France,  and  in  the  last  days  of  the  per- 
secuting Louis  his  vain,  aspiring  nature  was  borne  down  by  a 
thousand  humiliations,  l^o  Protestant  Turenne  any  more  led 
on  the  French  armies  to  victory ;  no  Huguenot  Colbert  saved, 
by  careful  economy,  the  resources  of  the  nation.  The  best 
soldiers  of  France  were  fighting  in  the  ranks  of  Marlborough 
and  Eugene ;  its  rarest  scholars — a  Descartes,  a  Bayle,  a  Jurieu 
— spoke  through  the  printing-presses  of  Ley  den  or  Amster- 
dam ;  its  artisans  had  fled  to  England,  Holland,  and  America ; 
its  people  were  chiefly  beggars.(')  All  over  France,  under  the 
Catholic  rule,  men,  women,  children,  fed  on  roots  and  grasses, 
and  browsed  with  the  beasts  of  the  field.  Paris  became  one 
vast  alms-house,  and  it  is  estimated  that,  at  the  breaking-out  of 
the  Pevolution,  two  hundred  thousand  paupers  claimed  char- 
ity from  the  hands  of  the  king.  The  Jesuits  alone  flourished 
in  the  decaying  nation,  and  ruled  with  dreadful  tyranny  over 
churches  and  schools,  the  prisons  and  the  galleys.  Literature 
declined ;  the  mental  despotism  of  the  Church  gave  rise  at  last 
to  Voltaire,  Pousseau,  and  the  Encyclopedists ;  the  Jesuits  were 
overthrown  by  the  indignation  of  the  age ;  but  their  fall  came 
too  late  to  save  from  an  unexampled  convulsion  that  society 
which  they  had  subjected  only  to  corrupt.(°) 

Under  the  rule  of  the  Jesuits  (1700-1764)  the  Huguenots 
who  remained  in  France  are  still  supposed  to  have  numbered 
nearly  a  million.  But  they  were  no  longer  that  bold  and  vig- 
orous race  who,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  had  nearly  purified 
the  nation.      The  Jesuits  watched  them  with  restless  vigl- 

(')  Le  Ddtail  de  la  France,  1695,  Archives  Curieuses,  has  a  clear  account 
of  the  embarrassments  of  trade,  p.  311. 

(*)  Weiss,  i.,  p.  100,  describes  the  depopulation  of  France. 


TEE  "  CHURCH  IN  THE  DESERT:'  293 

lance.(')  They  were  forced  to  hide  their  opinions  in  cautious 
silence,  to  study  the  Scriptures  at  the  peril  of  death.  Yet 
they  still  maintained  their  church  organization  in  secret,  and 
elders,  deacons,  and  evangelists  still  held  their  yearly  meetings 
in  lonely  places,  sheltered  by  the  forest  or  the  cave.  The  re- 
ligious services  of  the  Huguenots  were  held  with  equal  diffi- 
culty and  danger.  Driven  from  the  cities  and  public  places, 
the  devoted  people  would  wander  to  the  utter  solitude  of  some 
unfrequented  woods,  or  gather  in  great  throngs  beneath  a  fis- 
sure in  the  rock.  Sometimes  at  night  they  assembled  on  the 
sea-shore,  or  climbed  among  inaccessible  hills,  where  no  hostile 
eye  could  follow.(')  The  Huguenots  were  noted  among  the 
Catholics  for  their  love  of  solitary  places,  and  their  sect  was 
called  the  "Church  in  the  Desert."  Here,  in  the  heart  of 
rocks  and  wilds,  they  ventured  once  more  to  chant  the  Psalms 
of  Marot,  and  heard  the  plaintive  eloquence  of  their  persecu- 
ted preachers  with  fond  and  eager  attention.  Yet  often  the 
Jesuits  pursued  them  to  their  retreats  with  malignant  eyes, 
and  broke  in  upon  them  in  the  midst  of  their  supplications.^ 
It  was  the  favorite  occupation  of  the  active  disciples  of  Loy- 
ola to  follow  the  Church  to  its  home  in  the  desert,  and  bring 
to  justice  the  bold  criminals  who  still  refused  to  worship  at 
the  shrine  of  Mary ;  they  were  still  resolved  to  extirpate  ev- 
ery trace  of  heresy  in  France.  Eighteen  Huguenot  pastors 
were  executed  or  burned  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XV. ;  their  dy- 
ing voices  were  often  hushed  in  a  loud  beating  of  drums.  The 
galleys  and  the  prisons  were  still  filled  with  reformers ;  some 
perished,  forgotten,  in  lonely  dungeons ;  some  died  in  chains 
or  torture.  The  Jesuits,  who  knew  the  power  of  books  and  of 
the  press,  strove  to  destroy  every  trace  of  Protestant  literature 
or  libraries ;  they  would  have  read  throughout  all  France  only 
history  as  sanctioned  by  the  Popes,  or  morals  as  treated  by  the 
casuists ;  a  decree  was  issued  (1727)  ordering  all  "  new  con- 


(')  Martin,  Hist.  France, xviii.,  p.  19. 
C)  Hist,  des  figlises  du  D6sert,  C.  Coquerel. 

(')  Martin,  Hist.  Fran.,  xviii.,  p.  21.     Sometimes  the  Huguenots  turned 
upon  their  persecutors  and  killed  a  Jesuit. 


294:  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

verts  "  to  give  up  their  Protestant  books ;  in  every  town  and 
village  of  Fi'ance  bonfires  were  fed  with  Bibles  and  Testa- 
ments, or  other  "  pernicious  "  treatises ;(')  the  reformed  libra- 
ries were  wholly  destroyed ;  and  the  Huguenots,  once  the  most 
learned  of  their  contemporaries,  sunk  low  in  mental  culture. 
The  French  intellect  was  fed  on  the  brilliant  sophisms  of 
Rousseau,  the  sharp  diatribes  of  Voltaire,  the  historical  fables 
of  Bossuet  and  the  Jesuit  fathers. 

One  of  the  latest  and  most  remarkable  of  the  scenes  of 
Romish  tyranny  in  France  was  the  tragedy  of  Jean  Galas. 
In  the  Holy  City  of  Toulouse,  in  the  year  1761,  still  lingered 
a  few  heretics,  distinguished  for  their  peaceful  lives  and  spot- 
less morals.  Yet  to  their  Catholic  neighbors  they  were  ever 
objects  of  suspicion  and  dislike.  Toulouse,  indeed,  had  long 
been  renowned  for  its  rancorous  bigotry.  It  was  called  the 
Holy  City  because  in  one  of  its  crypts  might  be  seen  the  skel- 
etons of  seven  of  the  apostles,  and  in  its  bosom  the  cruel  Saint 
Dominic  had  first  conceived  or  applied  the  machinery  of  his 
Holy  Inquisition.  The  spirit  of  Dominic  ruled  over  the  peo- 
ple, and  Toulouse  had  been  hallowed,  in  the  eyes  of  Popes 
and  Jesuits,  by  several  massacres  of  the  Huguenots  seldom 
equaled  in  savage  cruelty.  In  1562,  a  Protestant  funeral  pro- 
cession was  passing  timidly  through  its  streets ;  it  was  as- 
sailed by  an  angry  band  of  Catholics ;  a  general  slaughter 
of  the  heretics  followed,  and  three  thousand  men,  women,  and 
children  were  torn  to  pieces  by  their  Romish  neighbors.  The 
Pope,  Pius  IV.,  applauded  the  holy  act ;  an  annual  fete  was 
instituted  in  honor  of  the  signal  victory ;  and  every  year,  un- 
til 1762,  a  magnificent  spectacle,  attended  by  the  blessings 
and  the  indulgences  of  successive  Popes,  kept  alive  the  rage 
of  bigotry  and  inspired  the  thirst  for  blood. C") 

Jean  Galas,  a  quiet  Protestant  merchant,  lived  (1761)  among 
this  dangerous  population.(')     He  was  sixty -three  years  old, 

(')  Smiles,  Huguenots,  p.  342,  and  note. 

(-)  Histoire  de  Toulouse,  Aldeguier,  iv.,  p.  315. 

(')  Jean  Galas,  et  sa  Famillo,  Paris,  1858,  par  Athaiiase  Coquerel  Fils. 
M.  Coquerel  has  done  valuable  service  to  the  cause  of  historical  truth  by 
his  various  researches  among  the  Huguenot  annals. 


ji:an  calas.  295 

respected  for  his  honesty  and  his  modest  character ;  with  his 
wife,  six  children,  and  one  maid-servant,  a  Catholic,  he  lived 
over  his  shop,  which  stood  on  one  of  the  best  streets  of  the 
city.  He  had  four  sons  and  two  daughters,  and  the  eldest  of 
his  sons,  Marc-Antoine,  the  cause  of  the  ruin  of  his  family, 
was  now  about  twenty-six.  He  was  a  moody,  indolent,  and 
unhappy  young  man,  who  had  sought  admission  to  the  bar, 
and  been  rejected  because  he  was  a  heretic.  He  had  sunk 
into  melancholy  in  consequence,  and  had  apparently  medi- 
tated suicide.  Yet  in  October,  1761,  no  shadow  of  gloom 
rested  on  the  innocent  family.  It  was  evening.  The  shop 
was  closed  and  barred ;  a  visitor  came  in,  and  the  Huguenot 
family  gathered  round  their  modest  supper-table  and  passed 
the  evening  in  cheerful  conversation.  Meantime,  Marc-An- 
toine left  the  table  to  go  below.  "  Are  you  cold,  monsieur  ?" 
said  the  servant  to  him.  "  No,"  he  answered ;  "  I  am  burn- 
ing with  heat."  He  passed  on  and  went  down-stairs.  About 
ten  o'clock  the  younger  son,  Pierre,  went  to  conduct  their  vis- 
itor to  the  door,  and  found  his  brother  suspended  by  a  cord, 
and  quite  dead.     He  had  hanged  himself. 

The  father,  stricken  with  grief,  took  the  body  of  his  son 
in  his  arras ;  a  physician  was  called,  who  could  do  nothing ; 
an  irreparable  woe  had  fallen  on  the  gentle  household ;  the 
mother  wept  over  her  first  -  born.(')  But  common  sorrows 
were  not  to  suffice  for  the  fated  family,  and  a  dreadful  big- 
otry was  to  make  their  names  renowned  over  Europe  and  in 
history.  A  curious  crowd  gathered  around  the  barred  door 
of  the  shop,  and  a  suspicion  arose  among  the  Catholics  that 
the  Calas  family  had  put  their  son  to  death  to  prevent  him 
from  abjuring  his  faith.  The  wild  fancy  grew  into  a  certain- 
ty ;  the  papists  broke  into  the  shop ;  the  father,  mother,  the 
son,  and  the  servant  were  arrested  and  hurried  to  a  close 
confinement ;  the  Church,  the  Government,  and  the  people  of 
Toulouse  assumed  their  guilt;  and  the  dead  Marc-Antoine, 
a  Protestant  and  a  suicide,  was  buried  in  solemn  pomp  as  a 
martyr,  attended  by  all  the  clergy  of  the  city,  followed  by  a 

Q)  Histoire  de  Toulouse,  Ald^guier,  iv.,  p.  897-303. 


296  THE  HUGUENOTS. 

vast  and  splendid  procession,  and  covered  with  all  the  honors 
and  blessings  of  the  Roman  Chnrch. 

All  Toulouse,  now  mad  with  religious  hatred,  called  for  the 
punishment  of  the  Calas  family.(')  It  was  asserted  that  all 
Protestants  were  assassins;  that  they  made  away  invariably 
with  their  children,  if  necessary,  to  prevent  their  conversion 
to  the  Homish  faith.  It  was  believed  that  the  whole  Calas 
family  had  been  engaged  in  the  murder  of  Marc-Antoine ; 
that  father,  mother,  his  brothers,  and  even  the  sisters,  had 
united  in  the  secret  immolation.  Jean  Calas,  after  a  long 
process,  was  tried  and  convicted.  But  no  evidence  of  any  val- 
ue had  been  produced  against  him,  and  his  own  clear  proofs 
of  his  innocence  were  excluded  by  a  fanatical  court.  The 
maid-servant,  a  Catholic,  who  could  have  shown  that  he  was 
absent  from  the  room  where  the  fatal  event  occurred,  was 
never  suffered  to  be  examined.  Calas  appealed  to  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Toulouse ;  the  Church  ruled  over  the  highest  tribu- 
nal, and  Calas  was  sentenced  to  a  horrible  death.  He  died  on 
the  rack,  still  declaring  his  innocence.  "  Wretch,"  cried  one  of 
his  persecutors  to  him  as  he  lay  in  torture,  "  you  have  but  a 
moment  to  live.  Confess  the  truth."  Calas,  unable  to  speak, 
made  a  sign  of  refusal,  and  the  executioner  drew  the  cord 
around  his  neck. 

But  all  Europe  soon  rang  with  the  barbarous  deed.Q  Yol- 
taire  took  up  the  cause  of  the  Calas  family ;  friends  at  court 
aided  in  reversing  the  judgment  of  the  fanatics  of  Toulouse. 
In  vain  the  whole  Roman  Church  assumed  the  defense  of  the 
murderers  of  Calas,  or  Dillon,  the  Irish  Archbishop  of  Tou- 
louse, showered  indulgences  and  honors  on  the  guilty  counsel- 
ors :  public  opinion  for  the  first  time  in  France  condemned 
persecution,  and  the  corrupt  Church  trembled  before  it.  Rose 
Calas,  the  w^idow,  the  bereaved  mother,  the  most  unfortunate 
of  women,  went  up  to  Paris,  and  was  received  with  sympa- 


(')  Hist,  de  Toulouse,  iv.,  p.  307:  "Tout  ce  cxue  pouvait  etre  dit  h  la 
charge  de  la  faraiUe  Protestante,"  etc. 

C)  De  Felice,  p.  428.  Rochette  and  three  companions  were  executed  at 
Toulouse  the  same  year. 


TEE  BE  VOLUTION.  297 

thetic  attention  by  the  court  and  the  king ;  a  new  trial  was 
ordered ;  the  innocence  of  the  Galas  family  was  shown  by 
conclusive  proof ;  the  judgment  was  reversed,  and  a  late  jus- 
tice was  done  to  the  unhappy  Huguenots.  Yet  the  Catholic 
Church,  confident  in  its  infallibility,  never  abandoned  its  belief 
in  the  guilt  of  its  victims,  and  its  falsified  manuals  of  history 
will  continue  to  assert  that  Marc-Antoine  Calas  was  a  martyr 
for  the  faith  as  long  as  the  papacy  endures. 

The  Revolution  soon  followed,  and  the  example  of  persecu- 
tion which  the  clergy  of  France  had  exhibited  for  so  many 
ages  was  now  retorted  upon  them  with  signal  vigor.  The 
scaffolds  ran  red  with  the  blood  of  the  priests.  The  galleys 
and  the  prisons,  once  crowded  with  Huguenots,  were  now  filled 
with  their  persecutors.  Cliained  to  the  bench  and  toiling  at 
the  oar,  the  Roman  Catholic  clergy  experienced  all  those  woes 
their  Church  had  so  freely  inflicted  on  the  gentle  heretics.  A 
general  emigration  of  priests  and  nobles  took  place.  France 
lost,  for  a  time,  a  large  proportion  of  its  people ;  yet  it  is  im- 
possible not  to  be  struck  with  the  unimportant  effect  of  this 
later  emigration  compared  with  that  wide  scene  of  disaster 
and  national  decay  that  followed  the  flight  of  the  Huguenots. 
When  the  gay  nobles  and  the  corrupt  clergy  crossed  the  front- 
iers no  flourishing  manufacturing  cities  fell  into  decay;  no 
fertile  districts  returned  to  their  native  wildness ;  no  intellect- 
ual dullness  or  moral  decline  succeeded  a  period  of  unwonted 
progress.  It  is  probable,  it  is  certain,  that  the  destruction  of  a 
single  centre  of  industry  and  trade  by  the  intrigues  of  the  Jes- 
uits under  Louis  XIY.  —  the  exile  of  its  pious  artisans  and 
their  well-trained  families — was  more  injurious  to  France  than 
the  expulsion  of  all  its  nobility  and  the  fall  of  its  monarchy  and 
its  Church.  In  the  one  case,  it  lost  a  centre  of  moral  advance; 
in  the  other,  only  the  sources  of  religious  and  political  decay. 

Under  Napoleon  the  Huguenots  experienced  the  toleration 
of  a  despot ;  at  the  Restoration  they  became  nominally  free. 
They  were  no  longer  forced  to  worship  in  caves  and  deserts. 
The  last  massacre  and  persecution  occurred  at  Nimes  in  1815.(') 

(')  De  Felice,  p.  478. 


298  TBE  HUGUENOTS. 

But  the  Catliolic  powers  of  France  and  the  Popes  of  Koine 
have  never  ceased  to  oppress  by  ingenious  devices  the  rising 
intellect  of  the  reformers.  The  Bourbons  strove  to  suppress 
the  dissidents ;(')  even  Louis  Philippe  was  forced,  in  obedience 
to  the  Romish  supremacy,  to  deny  equal  rights  to  his  Protest- 
ant subjects.  And  in  our  own  dayf)  a  cloud  of  danger  still 
hangs  over  the  future  of  the  Huguenots.  France  once  more, 
as  in  the  days  of  Louis  XIV.,  has  fallen  under  the  control  of 
the  Jesuits.(^)  Slowly  the  society  of  Loyola  has  spread  like 
a  miasma  over  the  land  it  so  often  desolated.  The  schools 
and  colleges  have  been  transferred  to  Jesuit  teachers;  the 
Protestant  teachers  are  persecuted  and  trampled  down.  The 
Galilean  Church  has  abandoned  its  feeble  show  of  independ- 
ence, and  is  the  strong  defender  of  the  persecuting  faction  at 
Pome ;  the  politics  of  France  are,  perhaps,  controlled  by  the 
chief  of  the  order  of  the  Jesuits.  A  strange  mental  darkness 
is  settling  upon  the  nation,  and  in  most  of  the  French  schools 
and  colleges  it  is  openly  taught  that  Louis  XIV.  was  a  mag- 
nanimous king ;  that  the  persecution  of  the  Huguenots  was  a 
righteous  act ;  that,  as  the  Jesuit  Auger  declared,  or  Bossuet 
and  Massillon  implied,  it  was  "  the  angel  of  the  Lord "  that 
presided  at  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew  and  directed  the 
horrors  of  the  dragon nades.(^) 

(')  De  Felice. 

(")  J.  Simou,  La  Libert6  de  la  Conscience,  p.  217,  shows  that  as  late  as 
1850  Pi-otestant  meetings  were  suppressed,  Protestant  schools  broken  up, 
by  unjust  laws.     It  is  doubtful  if  things  have  improved  since  then. 

C)  M.  Athanase  Coquerel  thinks  a  new  persecution  impossible  in  France 
(Les  Forfats,  p.  142) ;  yet  he  snggests  a  doubt  (p.  143).  If,  as  M.  Jules  Si- 
mon tells  us,  it  is  a  criminal  act  to  read  the  Bible  to  an  assembly  without 
permission  from  the  Government  (see  La  Libert^  de  la  Conscience,  p.  217), 
or  to  establish  and  maintain  a  Protestant  school  in  a  Catholic  neighbor- 
hood, the  Iliigucnots  can  scarcely  be  thought  secure  (see  p.  218,  note). 

(^)  The  history  authorized  by  the  French  Government  and  the  Romish 
Church  misrepresents  all  the  leading  facts  in  the  religious  wars.  The  mas- 
sacre of  Vassy  appears  as  a  quarrel  between  the  two  religions  ;  the  Diike 
of  Guise  is  full  of  benevolence  and  honor!  See  Simple  R^cits  d'Histoire 
de  France  (1870),  the  State  history  for  secondary  schools,  p.  141.  The  mas- 
sacre of  St.  Bartholomew  is  made  to  seem  "  un  coup  tl  I'ltalienne  ;"  the 
horrors  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  are  extenuated. 


FIUS  IX.  AND   THE  HUGUENOTS.  299 

The  Huguenots,  therefore,  are  still  in  peril  in  their  native 
land ;  their  ancient  foes,  the  Jesuits,  rule  over  the  Church,  and 
are  plotting  their  destruction.  An  infallible  Pope  sits  on  the 
throne  of  St.  Peter,  who  proclaims,  as  the  direct  revelation 
from  heaven,  the  persecuting  doctrines  of  Pius  IV.  and  Pius 
V.  ;(*)  who  has  himself  filled  the  dungeons  of  Pome  and  Bolo- 
gna with  the  advocates  of  the  Bible  and  of  a  free  press.  It  is 
possible  that  France  may  prove  the  last  battle-ground  between 
the  Jesuit  and  the  reformer,  the  Bible  and  the  Pope.  It  is 
certain  that  in  such  a  struggle  the  printing-press  will  not  be 
silent ;  that  the  printer  will  still  defy  his  natural  foes ;  that 
the  public  sentiment  of  the  age  will  rise  in  defense  of  truth 
and  honesty ;  and  that  the  lessons  of  history  will  dissipate 
forever  the  lingering  delusions  of  chivalry  and  of  the  Middle 
Ages.C) 

We  have  thus  imperfectly  reviewed  the  sad  but  instructive 
story  of  the  Huguenots.  The  tale  of  heroism  is  always  one 
of  woe.  Yet  the  impulse  toward  reform  began  at  Meaux  by 
Farel  and  Lef^vre  has  never  been  lost,  and  the  energy  and 
the  sufferings  of  their  disciples  have  everywhere  aided  the 
progress  of  mankind.  It  would  not  be  difficult  to  trace  the 
beneficent  influence  of  Huguenot  ideas  in  the  prosperity  of 
England,  Holland,  America,  or  France. 

(')  In  a  somewhat  extensive  work,  by  Professor  Laurent,  of  Ghent,  Le 
Catholicisme  et  la  Keligion  de  I'Avenir,  may  be  fonncl  a  clear  statement  of 
the  media3val  tendencies  of  Rome.  The  Pope  still  threatens  persecution, 
defies  governments,  annuls  their  acts,  and  only  waits  for  an  opportunity  to 
destroy  all  his  foes.     See  pp.  362,  411,  568,  etc. 

C)  At  the  congress  of  the  Roman  Catholic  bishops  of  Germany,  France, 
Belgium,  and  England,  at  Malines,  in  1863,  Archbishop  Deschamps  excused 
the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  and  defended  ijersecution.  No  Roman 
Catholic  dares  denounce  the  Inquisition,  or  to  relate  true  history.  He  is 
obliged  to  repeat  the  feeble  ideas  that  flow  from  the  diseased  intellect  of 
the  Romish  Propaganda.     See  Laurent,  Catholicisme,  p.  574,  and  book  xi,, 


on  Traditional  Religion. 


THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

In  the  first  century  of  the  Christian  era  the  civilized  world 
rested  in  unexampled  peace.  It  was  the  most  tranquil  period 
Europe  has  ever  known.  ISTo  general  war  disturbed  the  pros- 
perity of  Gaul,  Italy,  or  the  East ;  no  wide-spread  revolution 
carried  carnage  and  desolation  to  the  populous  provinces  of 
imperial  E.ome.(')  It  was  a  golden,  autumnal  season  of  classic 
civilization,  when  the  ripened  fruits  of  long  years  of  material 
and  mental  progress  were  showered  upon  mankind,  and  when 
the  internal  decay  of  the  mighty  empire  was  hidden  in  its 
exterior  and  splendid  tranquillity.  Comj)ared  with  the  later 
centuries,  the  first  was  singularly  frugal  of  human  life.  In 
the  seventeenth  century,  all  Europe  was  torn  by  fierce  religious 
wars,  and  men  died  by  myriads  to  gratify  the  fanatical  malice 
of  kings  and  priests.  In  the  eighteenth,  the  obstinate  vanity 
of  a  Louis,  a  Frederick,  or  a  George  III.  covered  land  and  sea 
with  slaughter.  In  the  dawn  of  the  nineteenth,  millions  of 
the  human  race  perished  by  the  iron  will  of  Napoleon ;  and 
the  young  generations  of  Europe  and  America  have  seldom 
known  any  long  repose  from  the  dreadful  duties  of  the  camp. 
But  in  the  first  century  no  battle  of  civilized  men  occurred 
equal  in  importance  to  Sadowa ;  no  siege,  except  that  of  Jeru- 
salem, as  destructive  as  that  of  Sebastopol.  Under  its  im- 
perial masters,  whether  madmen,  philosophers,  or  monsters, 
the  Roman  world  almost  forgot  the  art  of  warfare,  and,  weigh- 

(')  Under  Angnstns  and  Tiberius  Italy  was  at  peace,  and  their  succes- 
sors were  satisfied  ^vith  distant  conquests.  The  Vitellian  wars  filled  Rome 
and  Italy  with  massacres, but  were  soon  terminated  by  Vespasian.  Tacitus, 
Hist.,  iii.,  72,  laments  the  Capitol.  From  the  Jewish  war  we  must  abate 
much  of  the  exaggeration. 


ANCIENT  CAPITALS.  301 

ed  down  by  a  general  tyi'anny,  gave  itseK  languidly  to  the 
pursuits  of  peace. 

A  magnificent  form  of  civilization  at  once  grew  up.  Men 
everywhere  clustered  together  in  cities,  and  surrounded  them- 
selves with  the  countless  appliances  of  a  luxurious  life.  The 
theatre  and  amphitheatre,  the  aqueduct  and  bath,  the  grace- 
ful temples  of  yellow  marble,  the  groves  and  gardens,  the  tri- 
umphal arches,  the  forums  filled  with  statues  and  lined  with 
colonnades,  were  repeated  in  all  those  centres  of  artistic  taste 
that  sprung  up,  under  the  fostering  care  of  successive  emper- 
ors, from  the  Ceesarea  of  Palestine  to  the  distant  wilds  of 
Britain  or  Gaul.  The  Roman  empire  embraced  within  its 
limits  a  chain  of  cities  fairer  than  the  proudest  capitals  of 
modem  Europe  —  a  series  of  municipalities  destined  to  be- 
come the  future  centres  of  Christian  thought.  At  the  mouth 
of  the  venerable  Nile  stood  Alexandria.  Its  population  was 
nearly  a  million.  It  controlled  the  commerce  of  the  world, 
and  its  vast  fleets  often  covered  the  Mediterranean.  It  was 
the  Paris  of  the  East — gay,  splendid,  intellectual ;  its  univer- 
sity and  its  library,  its  philosophers  and  critics,  filled  the  age 
with  active  speculation.  Antioch,  on  the  Syrian  shore,  still 
retained  its  prosperity  and  its  luxurious  charms.  In  the 
midst  of  its  apocalyptic  sisters,  Ephesus  glittered  with  artist- 
ic decorations,  and  maintained  in  all  their  magnificence  the 
Temple  and  the  ritual  of  Diana.  Greece  boasted  the  corrupt 
elegance  of  Corinth,  the  higher  taste  of  incomparable  Athens. 
Far  to  the  west,  Carthage  had  risen  from  its  ruins  to  new  im- 
portance. Spain  was  adorned  with  the  temples  and  the  aque- 
ducts of  Saragossa(')  and  Cordova;  the  banks  of  the  Phine 
and  the  wilds  of  Gaul  were  sown  with  magnificent  cities ;  and 
the  camps  of  Britain  swiftly  grew  into  populous  capitals  and 
peaceful  homes.  In  the  midst  of  the  series  of  provincial 
towns  stood  conquering  Pome,  the  mistress  of  them  all,  slowly 
gathering  within  her  bosom  the  wealth,  the  luxury,  the  cor- 
ruption of  the  world. 

But  of  all  the  imperial  cities  the  most  wonderful  was  still 

C)  Cfesar  Augusta. 


302  THE  CHUBCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

Jerusalem.(')  In  a  mysterious  antiquity  none  of  them  could 
rival  her.  The  towers  of  Salem  had  been  contemporary  with 
those  of  Belus  or  Semiramis,  of  the  glory  of  Thebes  and  the 
youth  of  Memnon.  Jerusalem  had  seen  the  splendors  of  her 
conquerors  of  Babylon  and  Egypt  sink  into  decay.  A  thou- 
sand years  had  passed  since  David  founded  the  city  of  Mount 
Zion,  and  still,  in  the  first  century,  with  a  singular  vitality,  the 
holy  site  was  covered  with  magnificent  buildings,  and  a  new 
Temple  had  risen  on  Mount  Moriah  to  surpass  the  glory  of 
that  of  Solomon.  When  the  Seven  Hills  of  Rome  had  been 
a  desolate  w^aste,  and  the  Acropolis  the  retreat  of  shepherds — 
when  all  Europe  was  a  wilderness,  and  savage  hunters  roamed 
over  the  site  of  its  fairest  cities,  Jerusalem  had  shone  over  the 
East  a  beacon  of  light,  and  had  observed,  and  perhaps  guided, 
the  progress  of  Italy  and  Greece.  She  had  been  often  con- 
quered, but  never  subdued.  More  than  once  leveled  to  the 
ground,  she  had  risen  from  her  ashes.(^)  For  a  thousand  years 
the  priests  had  chanted  the  Psalms  of  David  from  Mount  Mo- 
riah, unless  in  captivity  or  exile,  and  still  the  Jerusalem  of 
Herod  and  Nero  was,  in  her  magnificent  ritual  and  her  sacred 
pomp,  the  rival  and  the  peer  of  Athens  and  Rome. 

In  the  minds  of  her  contemporaries^  the  Jewish  capital 
seems  to  have  excited  an  intense  dislike.  The  Jews  w^ere 
noted  for  their  bigotry  and  their  national  pride.Q  Even  in 
their  captivity  they  despised  their  conquerors;  they  turned 
with  contempt  from  the  polished  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  re- 
fused to  mingle  wdth  them  as  equals  or  as  friends.  To  the 
austere  Pharisee  a  Cicero  or  an  Atticus  was  a  pariah  and  an 

(')  Tacitus,  Hist.,  v.,  8:  "Hierosolyraa  genti  caput.  lUic  immens£B  op- 
ulentisB  tenipliun."  He  sketches  imperfectly  the  history  of  the  famous 
city.  "Dum  Assyrios  peues  Medosque  et  Persas  Orieus  fuit  despectissima 
pars  servientium."     See  Jo.sephns,  Ant.,  vii.,  3,  2. 

C')  Josephus,  Aut.,  x.,  10 ;  xii.,  5,  3.  Under  Antiochus  the  finest  buildings 
•were  burned,  the  Temple  pillaged. 

(')  Tacitus,  Hist.,  v.,  5,  recalls  this  feeling  :  "Ad versus  omnes  alios  hostile 
odium." 

(^)  Cicero,  Pro  L.  Flacco, 28:  "Quod  in  tarn  .suspiciosa  ac  maledica  civi- 
tate,"  etc.  He  speaks  of  their  barbarous  superstition,  and  argues  like  an 
advocate. 


THE  HOLY  CITY.  303 

outcast,  and  the  chosen  people,  as  far  as  possible,  shrunk  from 
the  unholy  society  of  the  Gentile.  But  this  exclusiveness 
seemed  to  their  cultivated  contemporaries  barbarous  and  rude ; 
they  repaid  it  by  a  shower  of  ridicule  and  sarcasm.  The  Ro- 
man writers,  from  Cicero  to  Tacitus,  paint  the  Jews  as  the  de- 
graded victims  of  a  cruel  superstition.  The  Eoman  satirist 
accused  them  of  worshiping  the  empty  air  or  the  passing 
cloud ;(')  the  people  of  Rome,  of  adoring  the  vilest  of  ani- 
mals ;f)  and  no  author  of  that  intellectual  age  had  discovered 
that  the  lyrics  of  the  Jewish  king  were  more  sublime  than 
those  of  Pindar;  that  the  conflicts  and  the  trials  of  a  human 
soul  w^ere  nobler  themes  than  the  Olympic  sports  or  the  tri- 
umphs of  Hiero.  No  Roman  writer  had  studied  with  care 
the  Jewish  Scriptures,  or  had  contrasted  the  Sibylline  oracles 
with  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah. 

Yet  even  to  the  Greeks  and  Romans  a  mysterious  awe  in- 
vested the  Holy  City.  They  heard  with  wonder  of  that  inner 
shrine  where  no  image  of  a  deity  was  seen,  but  within  w^hich 
no  profane  eye  was  allowed  to  gaze;  of  the  golden  candle- 
stick, the  priceless  veil ;  of  the  pompous  worship  of  an  invisi- 
ble God.(')  They  knew  that  to  the  austere  Jew  the  fairest 
statues  of  Phidias,  the  most  glorious  representations  of  Jupi- 
ter and  Apollo,  were  only  an  abomination.  They  had  learn- 
ed that  the  despised  Israelites  were  looking  forward  to  the  ad- 
vent of  a  prophetic  Messiah  wdiose  reign  should  be  universal, 
and  who  should  subject  all  nations  to  his  sway ;  and  emperors 
and  kings  had  been  startled  and  roused  to  cruelty  hj  their  un- 
flinching faith.  But  no  heathen  writer  could  have  supposed 
that  the  promised  Messiah  was  to  be  a  God  of  boundless  love  ;(^) 
that  from  the  heart  of  the  abject  and  hated  race  was  to  come 
forth  a  generous  sympathy  for  the  suffering  and  the  sad  of 

(')  Jnvenal,  Sat.,  xiv.,  100  et  seq. :  "Nil  prreter  iiubes  et  cceli  numon  ado- 
rant." 

C)  Tertullian,  Apol.,  cxvi :  "  Petronius  et  porcinum  numen  adoret." 

C)  Tacitus,  Hist.,  v.,  9. 

C)  Unless  we  trace  the  prophecy  of  Virgil  to  a  Jewish  source.  The 
liarsher  traits  of  Judaism  were  well  known  to  the  Romans.  See  Martial, 
v.,  29 ;  xi.,  95.     Persius,  Sat.,  v.,  180.     Ovid,  De  Arte  Am.,  i.,  76,  416. 


304  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

every  land ;  that  from  mysterious  Jerusalem  was  to  descend 
upon  the  world  a  faith  that  taught  the  common  brotherhood 
of  man,  a  charity  as  limitless  as  its  celestial  source. 

This  remarkable  mental  revolution  took  place  within  the 
first  century.  In  a  brief  period  Jerusalem  was  transformed 
from  a  centre  of  bigotry  and  intolerance  to  become  the  joy 
and  hope  of  nations.  The  Church  of  Christ  arose.  Scarcely 
thirty-five  years  elapsed  from  the  death  of  the  Divine  Teacher 
until  the  final  ruin  of  the  Holy  City ;  yet  in  those  few  years 
grew  up  a  society  of  insj)ired  missionaries,  equal  in  power,  in 
gifts  and  grace,  who  carried  the  tidings  of  hope  and  faith  to 
the  distant  capitals  of  heathendom.  The  Church  of  Jerusa- 
lem, the  Church  of  Christianity,  was  formed  upon  the  sim- 
plest and  most  natural  plan.  Its  affairs  were  discussed  and 
determined  in  a  general  assembly  of  all  the  faithful.  It  knew 
no  earthly  master,  acknowledged  no  temporal  head.  The 
apostles  themselves,  full  of  humility  and  love,  yielded  to  each 
other's  opinions,  and  consented  to  be  bound  by  the  decisions 
of  their  own  body  or  of  the  united  Church. (')  Peter,  whose 
vigorous  faith  formed  for  a  time  the  chief  support  of  his  com- 
panions, was  sometimes  governed  by  the  Hebraic  impulses  of 
the  austere  James,  and  was  afterward  softened  by  the  gener- 
ous remonstrances  of  Paul.  James  himself,  the  brother  of  the 
Lord,(")  at  the  apostolic  council  urged  compromise  and  peace. 
The  apostles  laid  no  claim  to  infallibility ;  they  trembled  lest 
they  themselves  might  become  castaways.  The  Church  was 
a  true  republic,  in  which,  in  his  unaffected  humility,  no  man 
sought  authority  over  another,  and  where  all  were  equal  in  a 
common  faith,  an  overpowering  love.  Its  ritual  was  the  nat- 
ural impulse  of  a  believing  heart.  The  Christians  met  in  pri- 
vate rooms  or  on  the  flat  tops  of  houses,  and  joined  at  regular 
intervals  in  prayer  and  praise.  The  sermon  of  the  presbyter 
and  the  apostle  was  usually  unpremeditated,  and  pointed  to 

(')  Clem.  Roman.,  about  97,  disapproves  of  the  people  removing  blame- 
less i^resbyters.     First  Epistle  to  Corinthians,  c.  xliv. 

(^)  James  is  called  "the  brother  of  the  Lord"  in  the  Scriptures;  tradi- 
tion has  sought  to  make  him  a  cousin.  See  article  Brothers,  in  M'Cliutock 
and  Strong's  Biblical  Cyclopaidia. 


SCENES  ABOUND  JERUSALEM.  305 

the  sacrifice  of  Calvary.  No  painted  robes,  no  gorgeous  rites, 
no  pagan  censers  or  clianting  priests,  disturbed  the  season  of 
divine  communion.  The  commemoration  of  the  last  sad  sup- 
per was  performed  by  carrying  the  bread  and  wine  from  house 
to  house ;  and  when  the  inspired  missionaries  set  out,  full  of 
joy  and  faith,  to  bear  their  good  tidings  to  splendid  Antioch 
or  gilded  Ephesus,  their  dress  was  as  plain  as  their  Master's, 
their  poverty  as  conspicuous  as  his.  From  Jerusalem,  which 
had  till  now  heaped  only  anathemas  upon  the  Gentiles,  the 
early  Church  descended,  the  teacher  of  self-denial,  benevo- 
lence, and  hope  to  man. 

The  Holy  City  of  the  first  century  was  not  that  scarred  and 
stricken  waste  that  now  meets  the  traveler's  eye.(^)  It  was 
gay  with  palaces  of  marble  and  streets  of  costly  houses ;  with 
the  homes  of  the  wealthy  Sadducees  who  had  won  their  fort- 
unes in  trading  with  Eastern  lands,  and  of  that  priestly  aristoc- 
racy who  had  engrossed  the  high  offices  of  the  Jewish  Church. 
Above  the  deep  ravines  of  Jehoshaphat  and  Hinnom  the  hill 
of  Zion  rose  to  the  southward,(^)  covered  with  fine  buildings 
and  the  palaces  of  its  Idum^ean  kings.  On  the  west  and  north 
the  lower  Acra  was  perhaps  the  home  of  the  laboring  class. 
Farther  northward,  the  new  suburb  of  Bezetha,  which  had 
grown  up  under  the  successors  of  Herod  the  Great,  was  no 
doubt  filled  with  the  warehouses  and  the  rich  dwellings  of  the 
Jewish  merchants.  On  the  eastern  precipice,  that  overhung 
the  vale  of  Jehoshaphat  and  the  brook  of  Kedron,  stood  that 
magnificent  Temple  which,  to  the  impassioned  Jew,  seemed  to 
surpass  in  splendor  as  in  holiness  every  other  earthly  shrine. 
A  tall  and  shapely  building  of  pure  white  marble,  seated  on 
the  high  top  of  Mount  Moriah,(')  was  the  central  fane  where 
the  Almighty  was  believed  to  dwell.  It  was  seamed  witli 
golden  plates,  and  covered  by  a  roof  of  gilded  spikes,  lest  the 
birds  of  the  air  might  rest  upon  it.     To  the  pilgrim  afar  off, 

(')  Robinson,  Biblical  Researches,  i.,  p.  380  et  seq. ;  Tobler,  Topographie 
vou  Jernsalem. 

O  Derenbourg,  Essai  snr  I'Histoire  et  la  G^ograpbie  de  la  Palestine,  i., 
p.  154. 

(')  Miscbua,  iii.,  334.    "Moiis  a;<lis  orat  quadratus." — De  Mcnsnris  Templi. 

2J 


306  THE  CHURCH  OF  JEEU SALEM. 

on  the  north  or  east,  it  glittered  in  the  bright  sunlight  of  Ju- 
daea with  an  effulgence  that  seemed  divine.  Within  were  two 
chambers.  One  was  that  Holy  of  Holies  into  which  no  pro- 
fane eye  was  allowed  to  gaze.  It  was  wreathed  in  rare  work- 
manship of  the  purest  gold ;  and  before  its  golden  doors  hung 
a  veil,  priceless  in  value,  woven  with  the  rarest  skill  of  Jewish 
and  Babylonian  maids.(')  The  outer  chamber  contained  the 
golden  candlestick  whose  seven  lamps  were  the  seven  planets ; 
the  twelve  loaves  that  marked  the  passing  year ;  the  fragrant 
spices  that  declared  the  universal  rule  of  God.  Here,  too,  the 
walls  and  roof  were  covered  with  golden  vines,  and  huge 
bunches  of  golden  grapes  hung  on  every  side.  The  Jewish 
taste  for  costly  ornaments  lavished  itself  on  the  Holy  House.f ) 
Its  doors  were  of  pure  gold ;  its  whole  front  was  covered  by 
immense  plates  of  gold  ;  at  the  entrance  hung  a  second  veil 
of  Babylonian  workmanship,  embroidered  with  mystical  de- 
vices in  scarlet,  purple,  or  blue. 

Such  was  the  Holy  House,  the  earthly  resting-place  of  Him 
who  had  thundered  from  Sinai  or  spoken  by  the  prophets. 
The  approach  to  it  was  through  a  succession  of  magnificent 
terraces.(^)  Around  the  sacred  precinct,  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
ran  a  wall  of  immense  stones,  wrought  into  each  other,  and 
embracing  a  circuit  of  several  thousand  feet.  The  inner  side 
of  the  wall  was  a  portico  supported  on  huge  pillars  of  mar- 
ble, beneath  whose  shelter  the  sellers  of  doves  and  the  mon- 
ey -  changers  held  a  busy  traffic.  The  whole  area  was  called 
the  Court  of  the  Gentiles,  and  was  the  common  resort  of  the 
Greek,  the  Roman,  and  the  Jew,  But  within  it,  at  the  base 
of  an  ascending  terrace,  was  drawn  a  graceful  balustrade  of 
stone-work,  upon  whose  pillars  was  inscribed  a  warning  that 
none  but  the  pure  Jew  could  pass,  under  pain  of  death.  Nck 
Greek  nor  Eoman  might  enter  its  exclusive  barrier.  Above 
it,  a  flight  of  steps  led  to  a  second  court  or  square,  surrounded 

OMiscbna,  iii.,  362. 

(^)  The  Mischua  is  filled,  ^vitll  details  of  golden  ornaraeuts  and  costly 
wood,  iii.,  362. 

(')  It  is  impossible  to  reconcile  the  different  accounts  of  the  Temple  iu 
Josephus  and  the  Mischua.    I  have  therefore  given  a  brief  outline. 


THE   CASTLE   OF  ANTOXIA.  307 

by  a  magnificent  wall.  It  was  the  outer  sanctuary,  and  witliin 
was  provided  a  separate  place  for  women.  Still  higher  rose 
a  third  court,  with  gates  of  gold  and  stones  of  costly  work- 
manship, containing  the  altar  from  which  the  perpetual  smoke 
curled  up  to  heaven,  and  the  Holy  House  with  the  candle- 
stick, and  the  Holy  of  Holies. 

To  the  north  of  the  Temple,  and  joined  to  it  by  a  bridge  or 
stairs,  stood  that  well-known  tower  upon  which  no  Jew  could 
look  without  a  silent  curse  upon  the  Gentile.  The  Castle  of 
Antonia  was  at  once  a  palace,  a  prison,  a  fortress.  Within  its 
massive  walls,  that  seem  to  have  covered  a  wide  surface,  were 
inclosed  a  series  of  magnificent  rooms,  courts,  barracks  for  sol- 
diers, and  perhaps  dungeons  for  the  refractory  Jew.(')  Here 
St.  Paul  found  shelter  from  the  angry  crowds  of  the  Temple, 
and,  by  the  care  of  the  Roman  captain,  escaped  the  fate  of 
Stephen.  The  tower  was  always  guarded  by  a  Eoman  gar- 
rison ;  its  turrets  overlooked  the  excited  host  of  worshipers  in 
the  courts  of  the  Temple  below,  and  the  glitter  of  foreign 
spears  upon  its  impregnable  walls  reminded  every  Jew  that 
the  kingdom  of  David  and  Solomon  was  no  more.  The  hill 
of  Zion  was  profaned  by  a  heathen  master;  the  God  of  Ja- 
cob seemed  abased  before  the  idols  of  the  Gentiles. 

Deep  down  below  the  eastern  side  of  the  Temple  walls,  the 
chasm  or  ravine  of  Jehoshaphat,  a  rift,  apparently  cloven  by 
some  fierce  convulsion,  separated  the  hill  of  Moriah  from  the 
Mount  of  Olives. (^)  The  head  grew  dizzy  in  looking  down 
from  the  Temple  walls  into  the  bed  of  the  Kedron.  Yet  the 
Mount  of  Olives  was  only  a  few  hundred  feet  distant  from 
the  sacred  precinct ;  its  sides  were  carefully  cultivated,  and  be- 
longed, perhaps,  to  the  wealthy  priests ;(')  from  its  top  could 
be  seen  the  city  lying  extended  below ;  and  far  to  the  east 
might  be  traced  the  glittering  line  of  the  Dead  Sea.(')     Along 

(*)  Josephns,  De  Bell.  JiuL,  v.,  5,  8. 

(*)  Robinson,  Bib.  Eesearches,  i.,  p.  326. 

(')  Derenbourg,  i.,  p.  467.  See  Tobler,  Topographic  von  Jern8alem,wbo 
quotes  vol.il.,  p.  987,  La  Citez  de  Jerusalem,  a  description  written  in  1187. 

(^)  Robinson,  i.,  p.  349.  "The  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea  lay  bright  and 
sparkling  in  the  sunbeams." 


308  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

tlie  side  of  the  mountain  spread  the  olive  groves  of  the  Garden 
of  Gethsemane.  Its  peaceful  walks  were  no  doubt  a  favored 
retreat  for  the  contemplative,  the  silent,  and  the  sad. 

Peace  and  prosperity  seemed  once  more  within  the  walls  of 
Zion.  Its  people,  always  industrious  and  frugal,  were  advan- 
cing in  wealth  and  ease.  Jerusalem  was  a  hierarchical  city, 
and  resembled,  upon  an  extensive  scale,  an  English  cathedral 
town.Q  Its  topics  of  conversation,  its  subjects  of  interest, 
were  all  religious.  At  the  front  of  its  society  stood  a  few 
priestly  families,  possessed  of  great  wealth  and  influence,  who 
engrossed  the  chief  ofKces  of  the  Church.  Ananias,  Caiaphas, 
and  Eleazer  were  the  leaders  of  a  narrow  aristocracy  distin- 
guished for  its  bigotry  and  pride,  its  luxury  and  pomp.  The 
splendor  of  their  dress  and  their  wasteful  extravagance  are  no- 
ticed with  severity  in  the  Talmuds.  Of  Ismael  ben  Phabi  it  is 
related  that  he  wore  but  once  a  magnificent  robe  worked  for 
him  by  his  mother,  and  then  gave  it  to  an  attendant.  Eleazer 
had  one  so  splendid  and  so  transparent  that  his  colleagues  re- 
fused to  allow  him  to  use  it.f )  The  priests  feasted  together  at 
costly  banquets,  and  lavished  their  wealth  in  pompous  ceremo- 
nials and  useless  display.  A  congregation  of  priests  and  doc- 
tors of  the  law  governed  the  city.(^)  It  was  called  the  Sanhe- 
drim, or  the  Seventy,  and  its  intolerance  and  cruelty  were  felt 
by  all  the  apostles.  It  was  a  high-priest  who  ordered  Paul  to 
be  smitten  in  the  face ;  it  was  to  the  corrupt  and  fallen  church- 
man that  the  apostle  cried  out,  "  Thou  whited  sepulchre !" 

The  city  was  filled  with  a  busy  and  prosperous  popula- 
tion. Every  Jew  was  taught  in  his  youth  some  useful  trade. 
The  perpetuity  of  the  race  is  due  in  great  part  to  its  habits 
of  industry  and  frugality.  Amidst  the  crowds  that  filled  the 
shops  and  warehouses  and  the  quiet  homes  of  Jerusalem  were 
seen  the  wealthy  Sadducee,  to  whom  the  present  life  seemed 
the  end  of  all ;  the  austere  and  formal  Pharisee,  who  practiced 
the  minute  requirements  of  the  law  ;  the  Jew  from  Alexan- 
dria or  Csesarea,  softened  by  the  contact  of  Greek  philosophy ; 


(')  Derenbonrg,  with  the  aid  of  the  Talmud,  has  given  new  light  upon 
the  condition  of  Jerusalem,  i.,  p.  140. 

(')  Derenbourg,  i.,  p.  232.  (')  Id.,  i.,  p.  141. 


THE  HOME  OF  MAEY.  309 

tlie  wild  Idumsean  ;  and  the  fanatical  zealot.  "When  the  great 
paschal  feast  called  the  faithful  to  the  Temple,  its  wide  area 
was  filled  with  the  united  descendants  of  Benjamin  and  Ju- 
dah,  and  a  fierce  religious  excitement  ruled  in  the  sacred  city 
that  the  Koman  garrison  itself  could  scarcely  restrain.  It  was 
often  a  period  of  tumult  and  disorder.  Strong  patriotic  im- 
pulses stirred  the  fanatical  multitude.  The  children  of  Israel, 
gathered  in  their  holy  seat,  saw  before  them  the  habitation 
of  the  Most  High,  and  in  His  strength  fancied  themselves  in- 
vincible. 

To  the  eye  of  History  twelve  sad  yet  hopeful  men,  charged 
with  a  heavy  task,  stand  out  distinctly  amidst  the  busy  throngs 
of  Jerusalem.  The  bold  and  ardent  Peter,  the  fond  and  ten- 
der John,  the  faithful  James,  led  back  their  companions  to 
the  beautiful  city.(')  They  wandered  together  through  the 
crowded  streets ;  they  preached  in  friendly  houses ;  they  met 
often  in  the  Temple  to  pray.  They  were  Jews,  and  they  had 
resolved  that  Jerusalem  should  be  the  centre  of  that  wide  re- 
ligious reform  which  they  felt  was  to  flow  from  their  teaching. 
It  was  in  the  city  of  David  rather  than  of  Romulus  that  the 
Christian  Church  was  to  find  its  model  and  its  source.C')  In 
some  plain  house  belonging  to  the  mother  of  John  lived  the 
Holy  Virgin,  cherished,  tradition  relates,  by  him  who  had  been 
the  best  beloved  of  her  Divine  Son,  and  by  her  whose  bounty 
had  often  fed  and  clothed  the  houseless  Saviour.  Her  chil- 
dren seem  soon  to  have  gathered  around  her.  James,  accord- 
ing to  the  spurious  epistle  of  Ignatius,(')  which,  however,  may 
retain  some  trabe  of  legendary  truth,  resembled  in  appearance 
his  Lord  and  brother.  In  character  he  was  so  eminently  pure 
as  to  be  known  as  James  the  Just.  He  lived  in  honorable 
poverty.  He  wore  the  plainest  dress  and  fed  on  the  simplest 
food.  His  name  was  renowned  for  perfect  honesty  and  truth. 
He  was  a  Hebrew  of  the  strictest  sect,  and  performed  with 

(')  Acts  i.,  12.  Neander,  Kircbengeschichte,  i.,  p.  329,  flescribes  the  invis- 
ible cburcb  of  Paul  and  James.  The  first  epistle  of  Clemeut.  Rom.  may  be 
looked  at  as  showing  the  sentiment  of  his  age. 

C)  Acts  i.,  4. 

(^)  To  St.  John.     See  Hefele,  Miguc,  v.,  p.  626,  for  an  account  of  Ij^natius. 


310  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

rigid  care  every  requirement  of  the  Jewish  la\v.(')  His  knees 
grew  callous  from  his  constant  attitude  of  prayer ;  his  heart 
was  full  of  intense  love  for  the  departed  Lord ;  his  life  was 
spent  in  visiting  the  widow  and  the  fatherless  and  in  keeping 
himself  unspotted  from  the  world.  It  was  natural,  therefore, 
that  the  disciples  should  turn  with  unaifected  reverence  to  the 
representative  of  the  family  of  their  Master,  and  James  as- 
sumed the  position  of  the  head  of  the  early  Church.  By  later 
writers  he  is  called  bishop ;  but  no  title  or  authority  was  an- 
nexed to  his  office.^)  He  was  but  an  elder  or  adviser,  counsel- 
ing the  faithful  in  their  difficulties,  guiding  the  deliberations  of 
the  inspired  assemblies,  and  leading  his  followers  to  a  holy  life. 
Around  the  home  of  the  Virgin  were  probably  assembled 
her  younger  children,  the  brethren  and  sisters  of  the  Lord. 
But  of  them  we  hear  nothing  until  after  the  martyrdom  of 
James,  when  Simeon,  his  brother  or  his  cousin,  becomes  his 
successor.  Yet  it  is  pleasant  to  fancy,  with  the  old  tradition, 
that  Mary  staid  long  in  the  house  of  the  gentle  John,  that  her 
last  years  were  cheered  by  his  constant  care,  and  that  she  was 
able  to  bear  witness  to  the  world  that  all  the  marvels  told  of 
her  Divine  Son  were  surpassed  by  the  truth.  In  the  spurious 
Ignatian  epistles  a  letter  of  Mary  is  inserted.  It  is  a  reply  to 
an  invitation  of  Ignatius,  the  martyr  bishop,  to  visit  him  at 
Antioch.(^)  Its  simplicity  and  its  purity  might  almost  affirm 
its  authenticity ;  it  has  neither  the  superstition  nor  the  gross- 
ness  of  the  papal  age.  The  Virgin  gently  assures  the  good 
bishop  that  all  he  had  heard  of  Christ  was  true;  that  she 
would  gladly  visit  him  in  company  with  John  ;  and  exhorts 
him  to  stand  fast  in  persecution. (*)     The  romance  of  the  cor- 

(')  Eusebins,  H.  E.,  ii.,  23,  quoting  Hegesippus,  Aia  Six^Tai  ttjv  tKKXeaiav — 
6  a£t\<j)og  tov  Kvpiov  'laKioiiog. 

(^)  Eusebins,  ii.,  1.     The  title  is  uot  Scriptural. 

(^)  Migue,  Pat.  Gra;c.  Migne's  nucritical  and  partial  collection  should 
be  read  with  caution,  v.,  pp.  1)42, 943.  Le  Nonrry,  in  his  Prolegomena,  and 
the  Romish  writers,  reject  these  epistles,  partlj'  because  Mary  is  called  the 
mother  of  Jesus,  and  not  of  God. 

(")  Migue,  Pat.  Grjec,  v.,  p.  943.  She  is  made  to  say,  "  De  Jesu  quae  a  Jo- 
anne audisti  et  dedicisti,  vera  sunt."  She  calls  herself  "  humilis  aucilla 
Cliristi  Jesu." 


ST.  PETEB.  311 

respondence  between  Maiy,  Jolin,  Ignatius,  seems  to  carry  us 
back  into  some  humble  and  liappy  home  at  Jerusalem,  where, 
amidst  the  harsh  strife  of  the  corrupt  city,  a  boundless  purity, 
a  limitless  love,  shed  over  its  modest  scene  the  peace  of  heaven. 
A  frequent  visitor  at  the  house  of  John  and  Mary  was  no 
doubt  the  impetuous  but  true-hearted  Peter.  In  history  there 
are  two  St.  Peters.  One  is  the  ambitious,  the  unscrupulous, 
the  cruel,  and  tyrannical  creation  of  the  Church  at  Pome.  Ev- 
ery unhallowed  and  worldly  impulse  was  gradually  numbered 
among  the  attributes  of  the  great  apostle.  In  the  third  cent- 
ury his  Roman  defamers  began  to  invest  him  with  an  ambi- 
tious design  of  subjecting  all  other  bishops.  In  the  fifth,  Leo 
openly  demanded  for  him  a  universal  primacy  of  authority 
that  was  denied  both  at  Chalcedon  and  Constantinople.  At  a 
later  period  he  was  made  a  temporal  prince,  ruling  over  the 
Poraan  States  by  force  and  fraud.  In  the  eleventh  century 
the  haughty  Ilildebrand,  in  the  hallowed  name  of  Peter,  pro- 
claimed himself  the  temporal  and  spiritual  master  of  the  world. 
In  the  thirteenth,  Innocent  III.,  to  enforce  the  authority  of 
Pome,  filled  Europe  with  bloodshed,  and  exterminated  the 
heretics  of  Provence.  St.  Peter  was  now  made  the  author  of 
the  Inquisition,  the  champion  of  the  Crusades,  the  oppressor 
of  the  humble,  a  universal  persecutor.  Still  later,  he  was  rep- 
resented by  the  horrible  vices  of  a  Borgia.  At  the  Peforma- 
tion  he  was  held  up  to  mankind  as  the  foe  of  rising  knowledge, 
the  patron  of  a  dull  conservatism.  He  was  supposed  to  have 
inspired  the  bitter  malevolence  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  and  to 
have  countenanced  every  crime  of  Charles  V.  or  Philip  II. 
In  the  nineteenth  century,  his  name  is  once  more  invoked  by 
the  Bishop  of  Pome  in  exciting  a  new  assault  upon  human 
freedom.  Priests  and  Pope,  in  their  linal  council,  present  once 
more  to  mankind  their  traditional  St.  Peter — ambitious,  cruel, 
tyrannical — and  declare  his  infallibility. (') 


(')  Baronius,  Ann.  Ecc,  sees  nothing  but  Peter  in  the  early  age,  i.,  p.  283 : 
"  Petrns  a  Cbristo  pritnatu  in  oniues  est  auctiis,"  etc.  "  Quid  nam  est, 
quod  oculi  omnium  convortuutur  in  Petium?"  Within  a  brief  period  all 
eyes  were  turned  on  I'aul. 


312  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

Yeiy  different  was  the  true  St.  Peter  of  tlie  Gospels  and 
the  Acts.  He  was  ever  lamenting  his  own  fallibility.  In  a 
moment  of  terror,  at  tlie  thought  of  death,  he  had  denied  his 
Saviour.  On  him  the  eye  of  affection  had  been  turned  re- 
proachfully ;  to  him  had  been  spoken  the  words  of  indigna- 
tion, "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan  !"  His  fervent  love  had  won 
forgiveness ;  he  was  the  rock  on  which  the  Church  was  ])uilt. 
Again  he  had  denied  his  Master  when  he  strove  to  enforce 
the  Mosaic  law  on  the  followers  of  Christ;  again,  he  yielded, 
conscience-smitten,  to  the  intercession  of  James  and  the  fierce 
denunciation  of  St.  Paul.  At  the  sacred  supper  it  was  not 
Peter  that  leaned  on  the  bosom  of  the  Lord,  and  only  his  age 
and  his  rude  eloquence  gave  him  any  precedence  among  the 
disciples.  Often  the  first  to  act  or  speak,  his  advice  was  not 
always  followed.  To  James  the  Just,  to  John  and  Peter,  the 
Lord,  after  his  resurrection,  communicated  a  divine  knowl- 
edge ;(')  and  Peter  seems  to  have  paid  a  willing  deference  to 
the  family  of  his  Master. 

His  true  greatness,  his  inspired  eminence  above  mankind, 
lay  in  the  liumility  with  which  he  subdued  his  own  impetuous 
nature,  in  the  lessons  of  gentleness  and  purity  which  he  so 
freely  inculcates  upon  his  disciples.  To  him  the  worship  paid 
to  a  modern  Pope  must  have  seemed  a  shocking  idolatry.  "  I 
am  but  a  man,"  he  cried  to  the  Roman  convert  who  would 
have  adored  him.  He  could  scarcely  have  presided  at  an  auto- 
da-fe,  for  his  language  is  ever  merciful  and  forbearing.  For 
himself  he  disclaimed  all  superiority,  and  would  be  only  an 
elder  among  elders.(")  Listead  of  the  vicar  of  Christ,  the  lord 
of  kings,  the  keeper  of  the  sword  of  persecution,  he  would 
liave  all  men  humble  themselves  to  one  another.  "  Love  as 
brethren,"  he  cried;  "be  pitiful,  be  courteous,  not  rendering 
evil  for  evil."  "  God  resisteth  the  proud,  and  giveth  grace  to 
the  humble."(^)     To  such  a  nature  the  vain  strife  of  contend- 

C)  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  ii.,  1.  So  iu  the  fragments  of  Papias,  Andrew  is 
iiauicd  before  Peter,  iii.,  39. 

C)  1  Peter  v.,  1. 

C)  1  Peter  v.,  .5.  So  the  epistles  of  Clement  and  Polycarp  reflect  the 
luiniility  of  the  apostles. 


ST.  JOHN.  313 

ing  bishops,  the  pretensions  of  priests  to  spiritual  and  tem- 
poral despotism,  the  unhallowed  splendors  of  the  mediaeval 
Church,  the  horrors  of  the  Inquisition  and  the  massacres  of  the 
religious  wars,  the  pride  of  a  Hildebrand,  the  cruel  rage  of  an 
Innocent  III.,  must  have  seemed  the  orgies  of  evil  spirits  clad 
in  a  sacred  robe. 

With  St.  Peter  is  constantly  associated  the  gentler  John. 
Together  they  had  fished  upon  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  had  left 
their  nets  at  the  call  of  the  Master,  and  followed  him  in  his 
wanderings  through  Judaea.  Together  they  had  beheld  the 
crucifixion ;  together  they  had  wept  through  the  night  of 
nights ;  they  had  run  together  in  the  morning  to  the  sepul- 
chre. But  the  tender  love  of  the  faithful  John  had  urged  him 
on  swifter  than  Peter,  and  he  had  first  seen  that  the  stone  was 
rolled  away.  Together  they  were  to  suffer  imprisonment  and 
persecution ;  preached  in  Samaria ;  performed  miracles ;  and 
w^ere  at  last  parted  to  die  in  foreign  lands  and  by  a  different 
death.(')  St.  John  represents,  if  possible,  a  higher  form  of  hu- 
man excellence  than  his  ardent  companion.  The  Saviour,  we 
are  told,  loved  him  above  all  other  men.  In  his  boundless  af- 
fection his  Master  had  discovered  no  flaw  ;  on  him  the  divine 
countenance  had  never  turned  reproachfully.  St.  John's  life 
and  writings  are  filled  with  that  intense  sentiment  of  tender- 
ness and  compassion  which  is  the  soul  of  Christianity,  and 
which  was  to  flow  in  a  full  tide  over  the  human  race.(^) 

His  youth  was  apparently  passed  in  active  labor.  He  was 
a  fisherman,  like  his  father ;  but  he  had  inherited  some  prop- 
erty, and  was  possibly  able  to  obtain  a  better  education  than 
fell  to  the  lot  of  the  other  apostles.  His  writings  show  traces 
of  an  acquaintance  with  Greek  philosophy.  Of  the  other 
members  of  the  sacred  company  scarcely  any  thing  is  told. 
Tradition  has  vainly  striven  to  follow  them  in  their  missionary 
toils,  and  has  sent  them  forth  to  found  churches  in  India  and 

(')  Eusebius,  H.  E. 

(-)  Neaiuler,  Deukwiirdigkeiteii,  Geschichte  des  Christentbums,  etc.,  i.,  p. 
399,  has  au  instructive  essay  on  Christian  brotherhood.  The  Christians 
formed  a  united  family ;  they  sent  aid  to  each  other  everywhere — "  bis 
nach  den  entforntsten  Gesenden." 


314:  THE  CRUllCR  OF  JERUSALEM. 

Ethiopia,  in  Britcaiu  or  Gaul.  Tliej  were  all  poor,  plain  men, 
yet  it  can  not  be  inferred  that  they  were  wholly  uneducated. 
Every  Jew  was  usually  taught  to  read,  if  not  to  write ;  and 
the  apostles,  from  their  youth,  had  been  familiar  with  the 
wonderful  lyrics  of  David  and  the  inspired  precepts  of  the 
law.  Their  minds  had  been  fed  upon  the  solemn  liturgy  of 
the  Temple ;  they  had  heard  the  holy  lessons  chanted  by  the 
priests,  and  had  listened  to  the  wild  strains  of  the  lyre  and  the 
cymbals  that  accompanied  the  sacred  rites.  With  music  and 
poetry,  therefore,  they  were  not  wholly  unacquainted,  and  they 
had  learned  to  watch  the  lovely  changes  of  nature  on  the 
shores  of  Galilee.  Here,  Josephus  tells  us,  was  the  brightest 
landscape  of  Judaea.  In  Galilee  the  sower  trod  the  ever-fer- 
tile fields  with  joy ;  the  songs  of  the  marriage  feast  and  the 
cries  of  happy  children  were  heard  over  the  land;  the  lily 
trembled  on  its  stalk  more  splendid  than  Solomon's  glory ; 
the  olive  and  the  vine  poured  forth  their  abundant  fruit.(') 
But,  above  all,  the  disciples  had  heard  lessons  of  divine  wis- 
dom, and  been  instructed  by  parable,  precept,  example,  by  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount. 

Affrighted  and  dismayed  by  the  spectacle  of  the  crucifix- 
ion, the  faithful  eleven  had  fled  from  Jerusalem  and  betaken 
themselves  to  their  nets.(^)  Recalled  by  the  well-known  voice 
of  their  risen  Lord,  they  returned  to  the  city,  and  met  togeth- 
er in  their  plain  lodging,  the  uj)per  chamber,  to  found  the  in- 
fant church.  Before  them  lay  a  heavy  task.  Through  perse- 
cution and  suffering,  in  poverty  and  weakness,  they  were  to 
preach  to  all  nations  the  lesson  of  heavenly  peace ;  they  were 
to  break  down  the  mighty  fabrics  of  formalism  ;  to  blend  into 
one  Christian  family  the  Gentile  and  the  Jew.  Yet  never 
had  the  ruling  religions  of  the  world  seemed  more  firmly 
established  than  when  the  apostles  began  their  labors.  In 
Jerusalem  the  fierce  zeal  of  the  Jews  was  aroused  to  new  vig- 


(')  Eey,  £tude  de  la  Tribii  do  Juda,  still  liuds  magnificeut  groves  of 
olives  in  Judiea  (p.  19),  and  quotes  tbe  reverend  Robinson  often.  Of 
Galilee,  Joseplius  has  given  a  pleasing  account,  B.  J.,  iii.,  3. 

(■)  John  xxi.,  3 :  "  Simon  Peter  said,  I  go  a-fishing." 


JEWISH  FESTIVALS.  315 

or  by  the  shame  of  a  foreign  rule.(')  The  presence  of  a  Gen- 
tile master,  the  hostile  spears  of  Antonia,  deepened  to  a  wild 
enthusiasm  the  ardor  with  which  the  assembled  nation  per- 
formed its  devotions  in  the  Temple,  and  kept  with  rigid  mi- 
nuteness the  strict  requirements  of  the  law.  Never  were  the 
rites  more  splendid,  the  throngs  of  the  festal  seasons  more 
numerous,  than  when,  under  the  Roman  procurators,  the  tribes 
gathered  on  the  holy  hill.  A  pei-petual  horror  hung  over  the 
excited  nation  lest  strangers  might  defile  their  Temple ;  a 
keen  watch  was  kept  over  the  sacred  site ;  and  every  Jew  was 
prepared  to  lay  down  his  life  to  save  it  from  Gentile  desecra- 
tion.Q  Pharisees  and  Sadducees  united  in  this  dreadful  res- 
olution, and  even  the  gentle  Essenes  were  afterward  found 
fighting  in  defense  of  their  Temple  and  its  God. 

Hatred  for  the  Gentile  had  deepened  the  patriotic  faith  of 
the  Jew,  but  had  left  his  religion  a  corrupt  formalism.  The 
higher  orders  of  the  priests  were  noted  for  their  pride  and  their 
rapacity.  To  maintain  their  luxurious  splendor,  they  plunder- 
ed the  people ;  to  confirm  their  power,  they  put  to  death  their 
rivals.  The  Holy  City  was  often  startled  by  the  news  of  an 
assassination  or  a  murder,  and  frequently  fierce  tumults  arose 
w^ithin  the  walls  of  the  Temple  itself,  and  dyed  its  sacred  courts 
with  blood.  A  general  corruption  of  morals  had  followed  the 
cruel  reign  of  Herod  and  the  Eomans ;  the  Sadducees,Q  rich, 
venal,  and  unscrupulous  —  the  Pharisees,  linked  together  in 
their  unholy  brotherhood,  had  filled  Jerusalem  with  their  vices 
and  their  crimes ;  the  poor  were  oppressed  by  usurers  and 
cheated  by  forestallers ;  and  great  wealth  was  seldom  gained 
by  honest  means.  Throughout  the  open  country,  robbers 
from  the  rocky  caves  of  Lebanon  j3reyed  upon  the  industrious, 
and  perhaps  gave  rise  to  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samaritan. 
They  were  the  zealots  or  patriots  who  had  taken  an  oath  nev- 
er to  submit  to  the  Roman  rule,  and  who  fled  from  the  city 
to  rocky  fastnesses  and  hiding-places,  whence  they  issued  forth 


(")  Raphall,  Post-Biblical  Hist.,  ii.,  399  et  scq. 
(■)  Josephus,  B.  J.,  ii.,  x.,  4.  Kapliall,  ii.,  399. 
C)  Derenbourg,  i.,  p.  143.     See  De  Saulcy,  Ilistoiie  d'Hdrod. 


316  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

at  night  to  plunder  equally  the  Roman,  Samaritan,  or  Jew.(') 
Not  seldom  they  made  their  way  back  to  Jerusalem,  and,  min- 
gling with  the  people,  stabbed  some  unlucky  priest  or  wealthy 
citizen  who  had  shown  too  great  subservience  to  the  Roman 
rule.O 

In  the  most  bigoted  of  cities  the  apostles  were  to  preach  a 
new  faith ;  to  their  enraged  and  rebellious  countrymen  they 
were  to  teach  lessons  of  tenderness  toward  the  Roman  and 
the  Greek.  But  if  they  ventured  to  look  beyond  the  limits 
of  Judsea  the  prospect  of  religious  reform  seemed  even  less 
encouraging.  Far  before  them  spread  that  Gentile  world  of 
which  they  knew  only  by  report,  where  for  countless  genera- 
tions the  white-robed  priests  had  celebrated  the  rites  of  Jupi- 
ter or  Minerva,  the  gods  of  Homer  and  Pindar,  of  ^schylus 
and  Ennius,  in  temples  splendid  with  the  offerings  of  the 
faithful  and  consecrated  by  an  undoubting  superstition.  Un- 
learned and  modest  rustics,  touched  only  by  a  sacred  fire,  they 
were  commissioned  to  penetrate  to  Antioch  and  Ephesus,  to 
Athens  and  Rome,  and  declare  to  hostile  paganism  the  won- 
ders of  the  cross.  But  how  could  they  hope  to  be  believed? 
Never  had  the  ancient  faith  seemed  more  firmly  established. 
At  its  front  stood  the  Roman  emperor,  the  chief  priest  of  the 
pagan  world,  the  master  of  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  his  sub- 
jects, proclaiming  his  own  infallibility,  and  announcing  him- 
self to  be  a  god.  In  the  city  of  Rome,  the  central  shrine  of 
heathenism,  beneath  the  golden  roof  of  the  Capitoline  temple, 
the  St.  Peter's  of  antiquity,  amidst  the  chant  of  choristers,  the 
smoke  of  censers,  the  musical  intonations  of  the  stoled  and 
mitred  priests,  a  Caligula(^)  or  a  Domitian  was  adored  by  his 
trembling  subjects  as  the  representative  of  deity  on  earth. 
No  Bishop  of  Rome  ever  possessed  a  more  imperious  sway 
over  the  faith  of  mankind ;  no  Ilildebrand  or  Innocent  was 

(')  Raphall,  ii.,  365. 

O  Joscphus,  B.  J.,  ii.,  12,  paints  a  dark  picture  of  the  horrors  in  the  city 
at  a  hiter  period.  The  Sicarii  iiuirilercd  men  in  the  day-time,  and  then  hid 
in  the  throng.     They  appeared  in  Herod's  time. 

C)  Suetonius,  Calig.,  22.  See  Merivale,  H.  R.,  v.,  405.  Caliguhi  claimed 
an  equality  with  Jove. 


BOM  AX  PAGANISM.  317 

ever  more  jealous  of  his  spiritual  rule,  or  persecuted  with 
greater  vigor  the  luckless  heretic.  Whoever  denied  the  infal- 
libility of  Caligula  was  condemned  to  the  cross  or  the  scourge, 
and  the  prudent  cities  of  the  Eoman  empu-e  hastened  to  adore 
the  statues  of  the  imperial  god.  Kor  was  the  splendor  of  the 
ancient  ritual  inferior  to  that  of  modern  Eome.  The  one,  in 
fact,  is  borrowed  from  the  other.  The  Pontifex  Maximus  of 
the  Capitoline  temple  has  been  transformed  into  the  Pontifex 
Maximus  of  the  Church  of  Rome ;(')  the  rich  robes  and  mitre 
of  the  ancient  priest  adorn  the  modern  Pope ;  the  tapers  and 
lighted  lamps,  the  incense  and  the  lustral  water,  the  images 
glittering  with  gems  and  gold,  the  prayers,  the  genuflections, 
the  musical  responses,  and  the  gay  processions  of  the  servants 
of  the  pagan  temple  have  been  preserved  wherever  the  Eo- 
man faith  is  dominant,  from  Italy  to  Peru. 

It  was  against  this  imposing  formalism,  whose  centre  was 
ancient  Eome,  that  the  apostles  were  to  wage  incessant  war, 
in  poverty,  humility,  persecution,  death.  They  were  to  strike 
down  the  imperial  Pontifex  Maximus,  who  claimed  to  be  a 
god ;  they  were  to  drive  the  priests  from  the  altar  and  ban- 
ish the  glittering  images,  the  unhallowed  rites ;  they  were  to 
preach,  amidst  the  fearful  corruptions  of  the  age,  a  spotless 
purity;  to  inculcate  honesty,  industry,  humility,  and  love;  to 
prepare  mankind  for  a  better  life.  They  met  in  an  upper 
chamber  in  Jerusalem,  elected  Matthias  in  the  place  of  Judas, 
by  the  suffrage  of  all  the  small  band  of  Christians  ;  and  then, 
in  the  heart  of  the  hostile  city,  surrounded  by  the  fanatical 
population  of  Pharisees  and  Saddueees,  exposed  to  the  dagger 
of  the  Sicarii  and  the  rage  of  the  Sanhedrim,  began  to  speak 
of  Him  who  had  walked  with  them  on  the  Sea  of  Galilee. 

Suddenly  there  spread  through  the  city  of  David  a  wild  re- 
ligious excitement,  a  revival  more  wonderful  than  prophet  or 
priest  had  ever  caused.      The  Spirit  of  God  moved  over  the 

(')  Muratori,  Liturgia  Eoniana  Vetiis,  vronld  trace  the  Roman  ritual 
back  to  the  apostles — "  nulla  autem  dubitatio  est,  quia  vel  ipsis  Apostolis 
viventibus  aliquis  fnerit  Liturgiai ;"'  but  tlie  supposition  is  unhistorical  as 
well  as  unscriptnral.     See  cap.  i.,  3;  ii.,  10. 


318  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

chosen  people.(')  The  voices  of  the  apostles,  accompanied  by 
miracles  and  prodigies,  and  telling  the  story  of  heavenly  com- 
passion, melted  the  hearts  of  the  penitent  Jews.  Immense 
congregations  assembled  around  the  house  of  the  teachers, 
and  professed  their  faith.  Three  thousand  were  converted  in 
one  day.  The  number  of  believers  was  constantly  enlarged. 
The  Jews  of  every  land,  who  had  come  up  to  Jerusalem  from 
their  distant  homes  in  Babylon  or  Alexandria,  Syria  and 
Greece,  were  tilled  with  a  novel  fervor.  The  people  of  Je- 
rusalem of  every  rank  yielded  to  the  general  impulse,  and 
w^orshiped  Him  whom  they  had  crucified.  Priests,  learned 
in  the  teachings  of  the  rabbis,  and  weary  of  the  empty 
formalism  of  the  law,  threw  themselves  at  the  apostles'  feet. 
Wealthy  citizens  sold  their  lands  and  houses,  and  gave  their 
possessions  to  the  cause  of  Christ.(^)  A  holy  brotherhood,  a 
congregation  of  saints,  sprung  up  in  the  corrupt  city;  the 
meek  and  spotless  Christian  walked  in  the  crowded  streets 
teaching  by  his  words  and  his  example ;(')  in  many  a  hum- 
ble dwelling  on  the  Acra  or  stately  palace  on  the  hill  of  Zion 
the  sound  of  Christian  prayer  and  praise  was  heard  ;  and  all 
Jerusalem  seemed  ready  to  worship  at  the  cross  of  Calvary. 

Thus,  almost  in  a  moment,  the  Church  of  Jerusalem  and  of 
Christ  arose.  It  was  about  the  year  35.  Tiberius  was  on  the 
throne  of  the  world,  and  was  hidden  in  his  island  fastness, 
hated  by  mankind.  Within  two  years  he  was  to  die,  and 
transmit  his  authority  to  Caligula.  At  Jerusalem  the  family 
of  Herod  the  Great,  always  patronized  by  the  Roman  em- 
perors, still  held  a  certain  authority.  Augustus  and  Tiberius, 
Caligula,  Claudius,  and  Nero,  each  maintained  a  friendly  in- 
tercourse with  the  Jewish  kings.  Herod  the  Great  died  in 
the  first  year  of  the  century,  just  after  the  birth  of  Christ ; 
his  son,  Herod  Antipas,  succeeded  him  in  a  nominal  rule  over 
a  part  of  Palestine,  and  reigned  until  perhaps  the  year  39.(*) 

(')  Pressens^,  Le  Premier  Si^cle,  i.,  p.  347. 
C)  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  ii.,  17. 

(')  Epistle  to  Diognetus,  cap.  v.,  defines  the  Cliristian.  He  is  to  love  all 
men  :  he  is  persecuted  by  all. 

{*)  Archelaus  reigned  a  few  years  over  Judaia. 


APOSTOLIC   CHAEITIES.  319 

Agrippa  I.,  the  grandson  of  Herod  the  Great,  and  tlie  friend 
from  childhood  of  the  Emperor  Caligiiha,  next  governed  Ju- 
dsea,  from  41  until  41:.  His  son,  Agrippa  II.,  was  made  king 
of  Chalcis  in  48.  His  little  kingdom  was  afterward  enlarged, 
but  never  embraced  the  province  of  Judsea  nor  the  city  of  Je- 
rusalem. He  survived  the  destruction  of  the  sacred  seat. 
During  the  whole  apostolic  period,  therefore,  the  Holy  City 
was  under  the  direct  control  of  officials  appointed  at  Home ; 
and  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  the  Roman  court  was  con- 
stantly informed  of  the  rapid  progress  of  the  new  faith. 
From  the  doubtful  letter  of  Pontius  Pilate  to  Tiberius,  and 
from  the  account  of  the  trial  of  St.  Paul,  we  may  at  least  in- 
fer that  so  important  a  movement  had  not  been  neglected  by 
the  jealous  despots  of  the  Roman  world ;  and  it  seems  proba- 
ble that  no  city  of  the  empire  was  better  known  to  Claudius 
and  to  Nero  than  the  ancestral  home  of  their  friends  Agrip- 
pa I.  and  II.,  the  direct  descendants  of  Herod  the  Great.  Be- 
tween Jerusalem  and  Rome  there  was  a  constant  intercourse. 

Meantime  the  missionary  labors  of  the  apostles  went  on 
unchecked.  Full  of  joy  and  faith,  they  preached  to  increas- 
ing  multitudes.  Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  stately  Temple 
and  the  hostile  vigilance  of  the  bigoted  Sanhedrim,  the  infant 
Church  grew  in  strength,  and  shed  a  refining  influence  over 
the  tumultuous  city.  One  of  its  most  pleasing  traits  was  its 
ceaseless  liberality  to  the  poor.  The  widow  and  the  orphan 
were  visited  and  maintained  at  the  cost  of  the  community. 
No  one  was  allowed  to  suffer  for  want ;  and  the  apostles,  en- 
grossed by  the  labor  of  teaching,  were  obliged  to  appoint  sev- 
en assistants,  afterward  called  deacons,  who  distributed  alms. 
Presbyters  or  elders  were  also  elected,  at  a  later  period,  to  re- 
lieve the  first  missionaries  in  their  holy  toil ;  and  with  this 
simple  organization  the  Church  of  Jerusalem  was  always  con- 
tent.(')  It  possessed  no  bishop  or  Pope ;  no  Pontifex  Maxi- 
mus  or  imperious  head.      The  family  of  the  Lord  seem  to 

(')  The  presbyters  were  Jewish,  the  bishops  or  overseers  of  Gentile  ori- 
gin. The  term  bishop  was,  therefore,  not  used  at  Jerusalem.  The  Church 
ofBcers,  whether  bishops  or  presbyters,  held  their  positions  onlj'  during 
good  conduct  (First  Ep.  of  Clement,  cap.  xliv),  possibly  only  at  will. 


320  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM, 

have  held  always  a  high  place  in  the  esteem  of  the  common- 
wealth, as  the  natural  inheritors  of  his  primacy;  and  James 
the  Just  deserved  by  his  rare  piety  the  first  rank  in  the  assem- 
blies of  the  faithful.  Yet  the  iirst  Christians  still  remained, 
in  outward  form,  a  sect  of  the  Jews.  The  converts  observed 
all  the  forms  of  the  Mosaic  law;  the  apostles  went  daily  to 
the  Temple  to  pray ;  and  even  Paul  himself,  at  a  later  period, 
submitted  for  a  moment  to  the  national  observances.  Witli 
their  fellow-Jews  the  Christians  climbed  the  stately  terraces 
of  the  Temple,  and  worshiped  within  the  sacred  inclosure 
where  no  Gentile  was  allowed  to  come. 

They  could  not,  however,  escape  the  vigilance  of  the  Sanhe- 
drim. In  the  first  joy  and  promise  of  its  wide  success,  the 
progress  of  the  Church  was  arrested  by  the  iron  hand  of  per- 
secution. Peter  and  John,  the  most  eminent  teachers  of  the 
new  faith,  were  seized  and  thrown  into  prison.  They  were 
set  free  by  a  miracle ;  were  forbidden  to  preach ;  and  were 
saved  from  a  sudden  death  by  the  prudent  counsel  of  Gama- 
liel. "We  may  well  conceive  the  deep  excitement,  the  pro- 
found alarm,  of  the  peaceful  Church,  when  it  was  told  from 
house  to  house  that  the  two  chiefs  of  the  apostolic  company 
had  been  shut  up  in  the  common  jail,  and  the  thrill  of  awe 
that  followed  their  mysterious  deliverance.  Yet  the  apostles, 
full  of  inspired  ardor,  refused  to  obey  the  Sanhedrim.  For 
persecution  they  were  prepared,  and  the  example  of  their 
Master  was  ever  before  them.  Perhaps,  in  this  hour  of  dan- 
ger, they  wandered  to  Golgotha  and  the  Mount  of  Calvary, 
recalled  anew  the  awful  scenery  of  the  crucifixion,  and  saw 
above  them  the  tender  countenance  crowned  with  its  circlet  of 
thorns.  Perhaps  they  looked  above  the  world  to  a  glorified 
reign  in  heaven,  and  longed  to  stand  at  the  right  hand  of  the 
Saviour.  But  no  terrors  of  persecution  damped  their  ardor. 
Their  voices  were  still  heard  above  the  fanatical  tumult  of 
Jerusalem,  preaching  in  opposition  to  the  rigid  law  the  single 
doctrine  of  faith  in  the  crucified  Lord.  "  Believe,"  they  cri.ed 
to  Sadducee  and  Pharisee,  "  and  thou  shalt  be  saved."(') 

(')  So  in  Pastor  Hernias,  Visiou  4,  c;ix>.  i. :  "A  voice  answered,  'Doubt 
not,  O  Hermas  !' " 


TEE  MARTYR.  '    321 

The  next  phase  in  the  history  of  the  Church  was  martyr- 
dom.(')     To  Stephen,  one  of  the  seven  ahnsgivers,  belongs  the 
lirst  place  in  that  countless  company  who  have  died  for  the 
faith  in  all  the  long  centuries  of  persecution.     Like  Stephen, 
the  victims  of  many  an  auto-da-fe  have  seen  heaven  open 
as  they  passed  away ;  like  him,  Huss  and  Jerome  died  with 
songs  of  joy.     He  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  most  gift- 
ed of  the  early  converts,  and  his  vigorous  eloquence  aroused 
the  intense  hatred  of  the  Sadducees  and  the  Sanhedrim.     His 
learning  and  a  Greek  education  enabled  him  to  dispute  with 
Saul  of  Tarsus  and  the  Cilicians,  with  the  Jew  of  Alexandria 
and  of  Antioch.     He  made  converts,  no  doubt,  wdio  carried 
into  the  pagan  capitals  the  new  revelation.     He  grew  bold 
and  vigorous  in  his  assaults  upon  the  Jewish  law,  and  Sad- 
ducee  and  Pharisee  felt  that  their  authority  with  the  people 
was  passing  away.    They  resolved  to  use  violence  in  silencing 
the  eloquent  reformer.     A  wild  and  angry  crowd  gathered 
around  the  preacher ;  the  scribes  and  elders  seized  and  drag- 
ged him  before  the  Great  Council  of  Jerusalem,  charging  him 
with  having  uttered  blasphemy  against  the  holy  law.f)     The 
assembly  met  in  one  of  the  courts  of  the  Temple,  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  Holy  House ;  no  j)rudent  Gamaliel  restrained 
the  fanaticism  of  its  high-born  and  imperious  members ;  and 
among  the  fiercest  of  the  accusers  of  Stephen  was  the  gift- 
ed and  yet  unsanctified  Paul.     The  trial  of  the  first  martyr 
recalls  the  long  series  of  similar  scenes  in  the  annals  of  his 
successors.     From  the  seats  in  the  sacred  hall  looked  down 
upon  their  victim  an  array  of  jndges  as  bitter  and  as  hostile 
as  those  who  condemned  the  gentle  Huss  at  Constance,  and 
who  sought  the  life  of  Luther  at  the  Diet  of  Worms.     The 
charge  of  blasphemy  was  preferred ;  the  high-priest  said,  "Are 
these  things  so  V     Then,  like  Luther  at  Worms,  or  Jerome  at 
Constance,  Stephen  broke  forth  in  an  impassioned  argument 
for  the  truth  of  Christianity.     He  reviewed  the  story  of  his 

(1)  Acta  Martyrorum,  BoUaudns,  i.,  IG  ct  scq.     The  faucied  tales  of  luar- 
tjrdom  at  least  agree  iu  their  leading  traits. 
(^)  Acts  vi.,  vii. 

21 


322  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

ancestral  faith  ;  lie  charged  the  haughty  priests,  the  high-born 
doctors,  with  having  violated  ever^-  precept  of  the  law.  "  AVliich 
of  the  prophets,"  he  cried,  "  did  not  yoiir  fathers  persecute,  and 
you  have  destroyed  the  Holy  One ;  you  are  the  betrayers  and 
the  murderers  of  the  Son  of  God." 

They  gnashed  on  him  with  their  teeth  ;  they  were  cut  to 
the  heart.  A  tierce  clamor  probably  arose  in  the  crowded 
council ;  but  Stephen,  conscious  of  his  doom,  said,  "  I  see  the 
heavens  opened,  and  the  Son  of  Man  standing  at  the  right 
hand  of  God." 

A  loud  outcry  arose ;  they  stopped  their  ears.  AVith  frantic 
rage,  they  dragged  Stephen  out  of  tlie  city  walls  and  stoned 
him  to  death.  He  called  upon  his  Master  ;  he  prayed, "  Lay 
not  this  sin  to  their  charge,"  and  then  fell  asleep.(') 

This  picture  of  the  iirst  martyrdom  at  Jerusalem,  painted 
by  the  skillful  touch  of  Luke,  was  ever  before  the  minds  of 
the  early  Christians,  and  animated  them  with  a  divine  fervor. 
They,  too,  longed,  like  Stephen,  to  see  heaven  open,  to  win 
through  the  pains  of  martyrdom  an  immediate  access  to  celes- 
tial bliss.  As  persecution  deepened  around  them,  and  to  em- 
brace the  faith  of  Christ  was  become  almost  a  certain  pathway 
to  torture  and  to  death,  the  ranks  of  the  martyrs  were  filled 
by  countless  willing  victims,  who  sought  instead  of  avoiding 
the  terrible  doom.  The  apostles  looked  forward  gladly  to  the 
last  great  trial.  James  the  Great  and  James  the  brother  of 
the  Lord  died,  like  Stephen,  at  Jerusalem.(')  Peter  and  Paul 
are  said  to  have  perished  at  Rome.  Tradition  awards  a  vio- 
lent death  to  nearly  all  the  apostles.  St.  John  is  said  to  have 
been  thrown  into  a  vessel  of  boiling  oil,  to  have  passed  through 
the  ordeal  unharmed,  and,  like  Enoch,  to  have  been  linally 
translated. (')  The  gallant  Ignatius,  the  disciple  of  St.  John, 
traveled  cheerfully  to  Rome  to  be  devoured  by  wild  beasts, 
and  longed  for  the  moment  when  he  should  be  torn  to  pieces 
by  the  teeth  of  the  lions.  He  prayed  that  the  wild  beasts 
might  become  his  tomb.(')     His  friend,  Polycarp,  gave  thanks 

(')  Actsvii.,GO.  (^.)Eiisebius,  H.E..  ii..23.  C)  Id. 

C)  Iguatius,  Ep.  to  Eoiuaiis,  c.  v.  . 


DISPERSION  OF  THE   CHUECR.  323 

when  he  was  bound  to  the  stake.(')  The  passion  for  martyr- 
dom grew  into  a  wild  enthusiasm  with  the  spread  of  persecu- 
tion ;  the  Cliristians  often  besought  the  pagan  judges  to  grant 
them  the  priceless  boon ;(")  parents  educated  their  children  to 
become  martyrs,  and  then  threw  themselves  in  the  way  of 
death  ;  martyrdom  descended  in  families,  and  the  child  thought 
himself  an  unworthy  member  of  a  saintly  race  did  he  not  re- 
ceive the  crown  of  his  ancestors ;  and  when  the  Papal  Church 
of  the  Middle  Ages  revived  the  pagan  practice  of  persecution, 
the  gentle  Yaudois  among  their  mountains,  or  the  Calvinists 
of  France  and  Holland,  learned,  from  the  example  of  the  first 
martyr  of  the  Church  of  Jerusalem,  to  die  without  a  tear. 

A  general  dispersion  of  the  Christians  followed  the  death  of 
Stephen.  The  persecutors  broke  into  their  houses  and  dragged 
them  to  prison.  Jerusalem  was  filled  with  scenes  of  violence ; 
the  happy  Church,  so  lately  rejoicing  in  prosperity  and  prog- 
ress, was  dissolved  ;  the  new  converts  fled,  with  their  families, 
to  Cyprus,  to  Antioch,  or  Alexandria,  and,  wherever  they  wan- 
dered, preached  the  Gospel  to  attentive  hearers.  Churches 
were  founded  in  splendid  cities  by  the  humble  missionaries, 
that  afterward  grew  into  metropolitan  sees  and  haughty  bish- 
oprics. Antioch  owed  its  conversion  to  this  sudden  dispersion. 
It  is  not  improbable  that  the  Church  of  Rome  may  have  been 
founded  by  some  fugitive  from  Jerusalem.  But  while  their 
people  fled,  preaching  and  baptizing  in  foreign  lands,  the 
apostles,  and  James,  their  moderator,  still  remained  in  the 
Holy  City,  resolved  to  maintain  its  pre-eminence  as  the  centre 
of  the  Church. 

Yet  from  this  period  (30)  the  elder  members  of  the  Church 
of  Jerusalem  are  almost  lost  to  history.  Peter  and  John  ap- 
pear for  a  moment  as  missionaries  to  Samaria  ;  Peter  converts 
a  Gentile,  and  confounds  a  magician  ;  after  a  long  silence  the 
apostles  re-appear  at  the  council  (50) ;  they  are  then  lost  except 

(»)  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  iv.,  15. 

C')  The  legends  are  often  touching,  often  gross.  Sec  Bolland.,  i.,  569. 
So  in  i.,  16,  the  virgin  martyr  gives  thanks:  "  Gratias  ago  tibi,  Domino 
Dens,  qui  ancilhim  tnam  in  perfectione  tiue  instituisti."  The  story  of  St. 
Martina  is  I'eiiulsivc. 


324  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

ill  tradition;  and  they  live  and  die  in  almost  impenetrable 
obscurity.  AYe  must  conclude,  however,  that  they  were  seldom 
long  absent  from  Jerusalem.  In  the  sacred  city  they  would 
find  an  audience  of  rare  magnitude,  ever  changing  with  the 
varying  seasons ;  and  when  the  Temple  was  filled  with  its  mot- 
ley throng  from  foreign  lands,  they  could  spread  the  Gospel 
with  little  labor.  They  enlarged  and  strengthened  the  Church 
at  Jerusalem ;  they  made  missionary  tours  to  Samaria,  which 
lay  north  of  Judaea ;  they,  no  doubt,  often  crossed  over  it  to 
their  native  Galilee,  still  fertile  and  prosperous, beyond;  they 
saw  the  well  -  known  lake,  and  trod  its  peaceful  shores.  St. 
John  is  said  to  have  lived  at  Jerusalem  with  the  Virgin  Mary 
until,  in  48,  she  died ;  and  we  may  fancy  that  often  the  be- 
loved disciple  and  the  gentle  Mother  wandered  away  from 
their  fair  house  on  Zion  Hill(')  to  the  fertile  environs  of  the 
city,  gazed  with  chastened  sorrow  on  Calvary,  and  paused  un- 
der the  olive  groves  of  Gethsemane ;  that  James  the  Just  was 
ever  in  the  Temple  at  prayer,  or  visiting  among  the  sick  and 
the  poor ;  that  Jude,  Simeon,  and  the  other  younger  brethren 
of  the  family  of  Christ  had  grown  up  to  be  useful  members 
of  the  vigorous  Church.  Persecution  seems-  to  have  in  a 
measure  ceased.  The  Roman  rulers  probably  restrained  the 
rage  of  the  Sanhedrim.  From  Jerusalem,  the  centre  of  the 
ever-expanding  limits  of  Christianity,  the  apostles  watched  over 
the  various  missionary  stations  in  the  pagan  world,  guided  the 
ardent  laborers  in  the  fertile  field,  heard  with  joy  of  the  wide 
success  of  the  faith,  and  were  won  from  their  Jewish  prejudices 
when  they  were  told  of  the  piety  and  humility  of  the  Gentiles. 
One  great  name,  eminent  only  in  its  lowliness,  from  this  time 
overshadows  and  controls  the  Church  of  Jerusalem.  Fierce, 
cruel,  unsparing  in  his  unsanctified  state,  Saul  of  Tarsus  had 
disputed  with  vehemence  against  the  eloquent  Stephen,  had 
consented  to  his  death.Q     Among  the  eager  populace  who 

(')  Nicepliorus,  He.  E.,  ii.,  42,  describes  John's  house  as  a  fine  cue.  John 
sold  his  estate  in  Galilee,  according  to  the  same  writer,  and  bought  the 
house  on  Mount  Zion. 

(-)  Conybeare  and  Howson,  St.  Paul ;  Neaudcr,  Planting  of  Christianitj-j 
1..  p.  99  d  scq. 


PAUL  AT  DAMASCUS.  325 

watched  the  fate  of  the  holy  martyr  none  was  more  malevo- 
lent than  the  Jew  of  Tarsus.  He  saw  without  a  tear  the  woes 
he  had  occasioned ;  he  heard  without  a  sigh  the  tender  words 
of  forgiveness ;  an  impenetrable  veil  hid  from  the  world  and 
from  himself  those  nobler  qualities  that  were  yet  to  shine 
forth  with  surpassing  lustre  upon  mankind.  From  the  mur- 
der of  Stephen,  Saul  proceeded  to  new  excesses.  He  became 
the  leader  of  that  fierce  persecution  that  broke  out  in  Jerusa- 
lem. He  forced  his  way  into  the  Christian  homes  of  the  Be- 
zetha,  or  Mount  Zion  ;  amidst  the  wail  of  women,  the  cry  of 
little  children,  he  dragged  fathers  and  mothers  to  their  doom  ; 
he  tilled  the  prisons  with  his  victims.  When  sated  with  per- 
secution at  home,  he  hurried  to  Damascus,  armed  with  letters 
from  the  high-priest  and  the  Sanhedrim,  to  strike  down  the 
infant  Church  that  had  sprung  up  amidst  the  groves  and  gar- 
dens and  the  glittering  waters  of  the  fairest  city  of  the  East. 
The  incarnation  of  the  rigid  law,  of  a  Pharisaical  formalism, 
of  a  cruelty  not  surpassed  by  an  Alva  or  a  Bonner,  Saul  trav- 
eled swiftly  and  sternly  over  the  ancient  road  from  Jerusalem 
to  Damascus,  dead  to  the  fair  face  of  gentle  nature  around 
him,  to  the  beautiful  and  true  in  life,  to  the  loveliness  of  virtue 
and  of  faith.  A  pride  like  that  of  Hildebrand,  a  cruelty  like 
that  of  Innocent,  a  madness  such  as  ever  clouds  the  intellect 
of  ambitious  priests  and  overbearing  churchmen,  impelled  him 
as  he  rushed  like  a  maniac  to  the  slaughter  of  the  just.  Sud- 
denly a  light  came  down  from  heaven ;  a  gentle  voice,  the  har- 
mony of  infinite  compassion,  pierced  his  soul ;  he  groveled  in 
the  dust ;  he  knew  that  of  all  sinners  he  was  the  chief. 

Blind,  he  staggered  on  to  Damascus.  He  was  led  by  his 
companions,  more  helpless  than  a  child.  He  saw  no  more  the 
ever-blooming  groves,  the  countless  gardens,  the  radiant  flow- 
ers that  strewed  the  banks  of  the  Golden  River,  the  rich  ba- 
zaars, the  crowded  streets,  the  stately  pomp  of  the  paradise  of 
cities.  For  three  days  he  remained  sightless.  A  miracle  re- 
stored him ;  a  presbyter  of  the  Damascene  Church  received 
the  penitent  to  its  society ;  and  he  was  forgiven  by  those 
whom  he  had  sought  to  destroy.  But  not  l)y  himself.  Paul 
fled  from  the  luxurious  landscape  of  Damascus  to  the  wild  and 


326  THE  CHURCH  OF  JEEUSALEM. 

inhospitable  desert.  He  hid  in  tlie  sands  of  Arabia  for  three 
years.(')  Amidst  the  herbless  solitude,  overhnng  by  rocks 
and  mountains  ever  seared  with  torrid  heat,  the  burning  wind 
parceling  his  fevered  brow,  his  food  the  scanty  gleanings  of 
the  desert,  his  dress  that  of  the  impoverished  Bedouin,  his  only 
companions  the  wild  beast  and  the  serpent,(^)  the  apostle  per- 
haps lived  in  his  remorse.  Ever  before  him,  in  his  wild  re- 
treat, must  have  hovered  the  memory  of  his  guilt ;  of  the  gen- 
tle Stephen,  whose  dying  love  had  failed  to  touch  his  own 
cruel  heart ;  of  the  weeping  families  he  had  tortured  at  Jeru- 
salem ;  of  the  fierce  hatred  he  had  borne  for  the  Church  of 
Christ ;  of  the  persecution  he  had  instigated  against  his  Lord. 
A  man  of  deep  conscientiousness,  of  the  purest  impulses,  now 
that  the  veil  of  a  cruel  formalism  had  been  torn  away  from 
his  mind,  we  can  well  imagine  with  what  abject  penitence  the 
once  haughty  persecutor  prayed  and  fasted  in  the  homeless 
desert.  Yet,  happier  in  his  desolation  than  his  pride,  he  toil- 
ed for  forgiveness,  purity,  faith.(')  In  the  Arabian  solitude,  in 
the  bitter  struggle  with  remorseful  woe,  Paul  was  prepared  for 
that  fierce  combat  he  was  destined  to  wage  with  every  dom- 
inant formalism,  with  the  high-priest  at  Jerusalem  or  the  im- 
perial Pontifex  of  Eome.(*) 

Paul  was  born  probably  in  the  second  or  third  year  after 
the  Saviour's  birth.  He  may  have  been  thirty-five  years  old 
at  the  time  of  his  flight  to  Arabia.  His  youth  was  passed  in 
his  native  city.  Tarsus,  in  Cilicia,  one  of  those  brilliant  centres 
of  artistic  taste  and  literary  excellence  that  covered  the  pros- 
perous East,  and  the  young  Jew  was,  no  doubt,  highly  cultiva- 
ted in  its  libraries  and  its  lecture-rooms ;  his  avid  mind  gath- 

(')  The  model  of  later  aucborites.  Hieron.,  Ep.  18, 43  :  "  Anachoretae  qui 
soli  liabitant  per  deserta." 

(')  Hierou.,  Ep.  18,  30:  "Scorpionnm  tantum  socius  et  ferarum."  Je- 
rome is  describing  tbe  Syrian  deserts. 

(')  See  Galatians  i.,  17. 

(*)  Renau's  painful  picture  of  the  great  apostle  is  altogether  unhistoric- 
al;  it  is  not  the  character  painted  by  bis  contemporaries.  See  Renan, 
St.  Paul.  He  impiites  to  liira  want  of  heart,  bitterness,  intentional  deceit. 
See  ch,  xix. 


PAUL   THE  FEESECUTOB.  327 

ered  knowledge  eagerly  from  every  source.  He  was  small 
and  plain  in  appearance ;  his  health  always  infirm ;  his  voice 
sharp  and  tuneless  ;  his  intellect  ever  active.  From  Tarsus  he 
had  come  up  to  Jerusalem  to  study  the  sacred  law  under  Ga- 
maliel, the  most  eminent  of  its  professors,  and  at  his  house 
probably  became  acquainted  with  many  young  men  of  the 
priestly  families  who  afterward  sat  with  him  on  the  bench- 
es of  the  Sanhedrim,  or  joined  in  his  condemnation.  Every 
young  Jew  was  taught  a  trade,  and  was  expected  to  provide 
for  his  own  support ;  Paul,  during  his  studies,  labored  as  a 
tent-maker,  or  perhaps  a  sail-maker,  and  from  the  coarse  hair 
of  the  Cilician  goat  wove  cloths  for  mariners  and  travelers. 
He  was  always  industrious,  and,  having  in  his  youth  been 
preserved  by  labor  from  immoral  tastes,  enforced  the  duty  of 
self-support  upon  his  converts.  He  was  a  rigid  formalist ;  the 
high-priest  was  to  him  almost  a  mortal  god  ;  the  services  of 
the  Temple  the  only  source  of  salvation ;  the  smoking  offering, 
the  daily  prayers,  the  fasts  and  feasts  of  the  Jewish  law,  the 
direct  appointment  of  the  Almighty.  With  horror,  therefore, 
the  rigid  Pliarisee  beheld  the  daring  innovations  of  the  Chris- 
tians; with  inexpressible  rage  he  listened  to  the  arguments  of 
Stephen.  By  nature  he  was  fierce  and  ardent;  he  was  a  de- 
scendant of  that  savage  Semitic  race  who  had  so  often  stoned 
the  prophets — whose  relatives,  the  Phoenician  and  the  Cartha- 
ginian, forced  mothers  to  throw  their  smiling  babes  into  the 
blazing  caldrons  of  Moloch,  and  who  delighted  in  human  sacri- 
fices. Paul's  fierce  fanaticism  found  a  real  joy  in  persecution. 
But  in  a  moment  the  savage  was  converted  into  the  tender, 
gentle  saint.  From  the  wild  sands  of  Arabia,  after  his  long 
and  painful  probation,  Paul  returned  to  Damascus  a  preach- 
er of  the  Gospel.  He  spoke  w^ith  a  natural  fervor  that  won 
many  hearts.  Often  scourged  by  Roman  and  Jew,  in  prison 
or  at  the  verge  of  death,  he  welcomed  persecution  with  joy, 
and  was  ever  eager  to  wear  the  crown  of  martyrdom.  He 
escaped  from  Damascus,  and  about  the  year  43(')  prepared  to 
return  to  Jerusalem  to  seek  the  friendship  and  support  of  the 

(')  The  exact  date  cau  uot  be  fixed. 


328  TEE  CHUECH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

Christian  Cliiirch.  Once  more  lie  approached  the  Holy  City, 
and  saw  before  him  the  magnificent  Temple,  the  centre  of  his 
early  adoration,  glittering  in  the  sunlight  on  Mount  Moriah ; 
the  hill  of  Zion  covered  with  its  palaces;  the  busy  suburbs 
filled  with  the  assemblies  of  the  faithful.  But  for  him  all  was 
changed.  Shame  and  contrition  probably  weighed  him  down 
as  he  entered  the  scene  of  his  former  cruelties ;  and  he  scarce- 
ly complained  when  the  Christian  Church  at  first  shrunk  from 
him  in  doubt  and  terror.  How  could  they  see  in  this  man  of 
cruelty  and  blood  the  great  teacher  of  gentleness  and  mercy, 
whose  inspired  thoughts  should  pierce  the  hearts  of  the  Gen- 
tiles, wdiose  ceaseless  toil  was  to  found  a  Church  that  should 
live  forever  ?  At  last,  in  his  humility  and  his  contrition,  Paul 
w^as  made  known  to  James  and  Peter,  and  lived  in  the  house 
of  the  latter  for  fifteen  days.  Again  he  began  to  dispute  in 
public,  but  a  higher  faith  was  now  his  only  theme.  All  the 
vigor  of  his  intellect,  all  the  resources  of  his  learning,  were 
lavished  in  his  controversies  with  the  Jews  of  his  native  Ci- 
licia  or  of  the  Grecian  lands.  He  was  a  new  Stephen,  teach- 
ing the  religion  of  the  heart. 

Driven  from  Jerusalem  by  the  rage  of  his  enemies,  he  be- 
gan that  wonderful  series  of  missionary  labors  that  fulfilled  in 
the  highest  degree  the  commands  of  the  Master,  that  carried 
the  name  of  Christ  to  the  chief  capitals  of  heathendom,  and 
whose  example  has  ever  inspired  the  humble  emulation  of  his 
modern  imitators,  who  have  penetrated  with  their  glad  tidings 
the  savage  shores  of  Greenland,  the  jungles  of  India,  the  isl- 
ands of  the  Pacific.  He  was  the  leader  of  the  great  mental 
revolution  whose  centre  was  the  Holy  City.(')  For  twenty- 
five  years  the  apostle  wandered  from  land  to  land,  maintained 
chiefly  by  his  own  labors,  and  inculcating  by  his  example  the 
dignity  of  honest  toil.  His  intellect,  ever  active  and  vivid, 
was  only  strengthened  by  time ;  his  feeble  frame,  often  borne 

(')  St.  Paul's  freedom  from  Jewish  prejudice  is  reflected  in  all  the  apos- 
tolic fathers.  The  Epistle  of  Baruabas  is  a  protest  agaiust  Judaism,  c.  iii., 
iv.  So  in  the  Epistle  to  Diognetus,  c.  iv.,  the  formal  scrupulousuesa  of  the 
Jev.'s  is  pronouuced  ridiculous. 


DEATH  OF  JAMES.  329 

down  by  disease,  was  sustained  by  a  miraculous  vigor;  his 
joyous  spirit,  glad  in  its  release  from  bondage,  carried  hope  to 
the  infant  churches  ;  his  inspired  eloquence  pierced  with  dead- 
ly wounds  the  sensual  formalism  of  the  age. 

An  irreparable  sorrow  fell  upon  the  apostolic  company  soon 
after  St.  Paul  had  left  the  city.  For  several  years  the  Church 
had  rested  in  peace.  But  now  James  the  Elder,  the  first  ap- 
ostolic martyr,  died  by  the  commands  of  a  royal  persecutor. 
Agrippa  I.,  the  grandson  of  Herod  the  Great,  and  the  friend 
from  childhood  of  the  Emperor  Caligula,  was  the  last  king 
that  sat  upon  the  throne  of  David.  He  had  inherited  the 
vices  and  the  cruelty  of  his  grandfather ;  he  was  a  worthy  as- 
sociate of  the  infamous  son  of  Germanicus ;  yet  his  descent 
from  the  priestly  race  of  the  Asmoneans  gave  him  an  heredi- 
tary claim  to  the  loyalty  of  the  Jews,  and  he  was  eager  to  win 
their  favor.  In  the  last  year  of  his  life  and  reign  he  began  a 
severe  persecution  of  the  Christians.  To  all  the  multitude  that 
trod  the  prosperous  streets  of  Jerusalem  the  forms  and  feat- 
ures of  the  apostolic  band  must  have  been  familiar,  and  the 
fame  of  their  holy  lives  had  reached  the  corrupt  circles  of  the 
palace  on  the  hill  of  Zion.  To  gratify  the  Jews,  xVgrippa  re- 
solved to  destroy  them  all.  He  selected  for  his  first  victim 
the  bold  and  active  James,  brother  of  John,  and  one  of  the 
best  beloved  of  the  disciples.  James  was  beheaded.  Tradi- 
tion relates  that  on  his  way  to  execution  his  chief  accuser, 
stung  by  remorse,  begged  his  forgiveness.  The  apostle  kissed 
the  repentant  enemy,  and  said,  "  Peace  be  with  thee."  But 
the  enraged  Jews,  unsoftened  by  the  spectacle,  put  to  death 
the  accuser  with  the  accused. (')  Peter  was  arrested  and 
thrown  into  prison,  but  was  miraculously  set  free,  and  escaped 
from  the  city.  A  dreadful  doom  hung  over  all  the  apostles, 
when  suddenly  Agrippa  died  in  horrible  torments.(')  The 
kingdom  of  David  and  Solomon  perished  with  their  corrupt 
successor,  and  from  this  time  (-i-i)  until  its  destruction  Jerusa- 
lem was  governed  by  officials  sent  from  Pome. 

(')  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  ii.,9,  from  Clem.  Alex. 
(*)  According  to  Gieseler,  he  died  August  6th. 


330  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

Paul  soon  after  returned  to  the  Holy  City.  A  famine 
raged  in  Judita ;  the  poor  starved,  and  the  Christian  Church, 
impoverished  by  its  liberality,  must  have  suffered  with  the 
people.  The  Cliristians  of  Antioch  and  the  other  distant 
churches  sent  aid  to  their  brethren  in  Jerusalem,  and  Paul 
was  at  the  head  of  a  delegation  of  the  alms-bearers.  He  re- 
mained but  a  short  time.  The  city  was  no  safe  place  for  the 
ardent  missionary ;  while  far  before  him  he  saw  that  bound- 
less field  of  labor,  the  splendid  cities  of  Asia  Minor,  of  Syria, 
of  Greece  and  Rome,  toward  which  he  was  impelled  by  a 
heavenly  call.  He  could  not,  like  Peter  and  James,  remain  at 
rest  in  Jerusalem.    He  wept  over  the  blindness  of  the  heathen. 

At  Antioch  Paul  made  his  first  missionary  station ;  at  An- 
tioch the  disciples  were  first  called  Christians.(')  In  almost 
all  the  cities  of  the  Eoman  world  large  colonies  of  Jews  were 
established,  and  with  their  usual  industry  and  thrift  had  made 
themselves  powerful  and  wealthy.  Cultivated  and  softened 
by  Greek  civilization,  the  Hellenized  Jews  fell  easy  converts 
to  the  inspired  eloquence  of  the  apostle.  The  Church  at  A.n- 
tioch,  the  oldest  next  to  that  of  Jerusalem,  flourished  with 
singular  vigor.  From  Antioch,  attended  by  the  chief  presby- 
ters of  the  Church,  Paul  set  out  on  his  first  missio.nary  jour- 
ney ;  he  passed  through  Cj^^rus,  Pisidia,  Lystra ;  he  preached 
in  the  synagogues  to  great  numbers  of  Jews  and  Gentiles ;  in 
Lystra  he  healed  a  crijjple,  and  the  savage  people,  struck  with 
wonder,  believed  that  the  gods  were  once  more  descended 
among  them.  Barnabas,  tall  and  commanding  in  appearance, 
they  supposed  to  be  Jupiter.  Paul,  small,  insignificant,  but 
ever  eloquent,  was  Mercury ;  and  the  simple  people,  full  of 
awe,  summoned  their  priests,  prepared  oxen  for  sacrifice,  and 
would  have  made  prayers  and  libations  to  the  divine  strangers. 
Paul  and  Barnabas  rent  their  clothes  in  anguish :  "  We  are 
but  men !"  they  cried  out  to  the  by-standers  ;f)  and  Paul,  in 
impassioned  eloquence,  preached  to  them  the  risen  Lord. 

'    (')  Barouius,  as  usnal,  -would  make  Peter  fouud  the  Church  at  Antioch 
(Auu.  Ecc,  i.,  327) ;  but  when  ? 

(^)  The  conduct  of  Paul  should  check  the  siiirltual  pride  of  modern  priests. 


THE  FIRST  COUNCIL.  331 

Meantime  in  Jerusalem  the  wonderful  success  of  the  apos- 
tle had  fixed  the  attention  of  the  Church.  They  saw  with  as- 
tonishment the  conversion  of  the  Gentiles ;  they  still  doubted 
if  there  could  be  salvation  out  of  the  Mosaic  law.  James  and 
Peter  were  startled  at  the  liberality  of  Paul ;  they  trembled 
lest  he  had  departed  f i-om  the  faith ;  they  resolved  to  hold  a 
general  assembly  of  the  Church,  to  decide,  under  the  guidance 
of  inspiration,  the  future  rule  of  belief,  Paul  and  his  fellow- 
missionaries  had  determined  that  circumcision  and  an  observ- 
ance of  the  Jewish  rites  should  not  be  enforced  upon  his  Gen- 
tile converts.  James  and  the  other  apostles  thought  their  doc- 
trine heretical ;  "  false  brethren,"  as  St.  Paul  relates,  had  stim- 
ulated and  imbittered  the  controversy.  To  restore  the  rule  of 
Christian  harmony,  the  infant  Church  assembled  in  the  year 
50  at  Jerusalem. 

The  first  council  forms  an  instructive  contrast  to  the  lone; 
line  of  its  mediseval  and  corrupt  successors.  An  apostolic 
grace  hung  over  all  its  proceedings.(')  There  was  no  claim  of 
infallibility  on  the  part  of  Peter  and  his  associates ;  no  threat 
of  violence  and  persecution ;  no  trace  of  priestly  ambition  or 
of  spiritual  pride.  James  the  Just  presided  as  the  represent- 
ative of  the  family  of  Christ.  Around  him  were  gathered 
John,  ever  gentle ;  Peter,  full  of  love  and  hope ;  Andrew, 
the  first-born  of  the  apostles.  One  vacant  place  must  have 
touched  the  hearts  of  all  the  sacred  company.  They  looked 
in  vain  for  the  well-beloved  form  of  the  martyr  James.  The 
council  met  in  some  plain  house  in  the  city,  and  the  whole 
Church,  of  all  degrees,  took  part  in  its  proceedings.  The 
apostle  claimed  no  greater  authority  than  the  simplest  lay- 
man, and  every  question  was  decided  by  a  common  suffrage.(^) 
Each  Christian  was  the  member  of  a  holy  priesthood,  and  was 
subject  only  to  the  Puler  of  the  skies.  From  the  Council  of 
Jerusalem  to  the  Council  of  Constance,  of  Trent,  or  of  Rome, 


(')  Pressens^,  Hist.  Trois.  Sifec,  has  given  a  clear  account  of  the  apostolic 
age,  i.,  p.  459  et  seq.     See  Schaffer,  Hist.  Ap.  Church,  p.  254,  for  the  council. 

(')  For  the  purity  and  simplicity  of  the  apostolic  faith  and  usages  con- 
sult the  Apostolic  Fathers.    Migue's  edition  may  be  used  with  discretion. 


332  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

tlie  eje  turns  with  singular  interest.  In  the  last — the  council 
of  our  own  day  —  beneath  the  pomp  of  St.  Peter's,  the  glare 
of  dull-eyed  images,  the  glitter  of  gaudy  idols,  the  peal  of  pa- 
gan sounds  and  rites,  a  throng  of  bishops  and  an  infallible 
Pope  meet  to  legislate  for  Christianity.  But  should  some  fol- 
lower of  St.  Paul  presume  to  assert  the  rights  of  conscience 
and  of  private  judgment  before  the  modern  sanhedrim,  like 
the  apostle,  he  would,  perhaps,  be  smitten  on  the  face  by  some 
despotic  priest ;  with  apostolic  indignation  he  might  exclaim, 
"  Thou  wliited  sepulchre !"  In  the  modern  council  freedom 
of  debate  is  forbidden,  and  religious  despotism  enforced  by 
the  papal  rifles.  At  Trent  a  still  sterner  tyranny  prevailed. 
Luther  and  Calvin,  the  spiritual  descendants  of  St.  Paul, 
shrunk  in  aversion  and  terror  from  the  unscrupulous  assem- 
bly. At  Constance  the  contrast  deepens  into  tragic  interest 
when,  amidst  mail-clad  princes  and  mitred  priests,  its  holy 
martyrs,  the  defenders  of  mental  freedom,  are  burned  to  ashes 
beside  the  rapid  Ehine. 

Bat  no  temporal  chief  or  spiritual  despot  controlled  the  as- 
sembly of  the  saints  at  Jerusalem ;  no  gay-robed  procession 
of  imperious  bishops  swept  into  the  modest  chamber.  Paul, 
covered  with  the  dust  of  travel,  clad  in  the  coarse  garb  of  per- 
petual poverty,  came  up  to  speak  words  of  inspired  wisdom  to 
his  brethren.  The  gentle  Christians,  no  doubt,  listened  with 
eager  joy  to  his  earnest  elocpience.  The  narrow  room  over- 
flowed with  the  number  of  the  faithful.  The  strict  nile  of 
the  Mosaic  law  was  swept  away  by  a  unanimous  decision,  and 
Paul  set  out  once  more  on  his  mission  to  the  heathen,  the 
teacher  of  harmony,  union,  and  a  common  faith.(') 

Ever  with  the  great  labors  of  the  apostle  is  associated  the 
venerable  name  of  Ephesus,  the  chief  of  the  apocalyptic 
Churches.  The  traveler  who  approaches  the  site  of  the  fa- 
mous city,^)  on  the  shore  of  Asia  Minor,  sees  only  a  wide  mo- 
rass, a  few  huts  and  hovels,  and  various  huge  mounds  of  buried 

(')  Scliaif.,  Hist.  Ap.  Churcli,  p.  255.  Some  restrictions  were  retained, 
but  soon  forgotten. 

(^)  Arundell,  Seven  Churches,  p.  4-24. 


EPHESVS.  333 

ruins  rising  beyond.  Yet  the  name  of  Paul  still  keeps  alive 
the  memory  of  the  lost  metropolis,  once  more  splendid  than 
any  Europe  boasts.  One  mound  is  called  his  j)rison ;  anoth- 
er the  theatre  where  the  clamorous  Ephesians  demanded  his 
death ;  another  the  Temple  of  Diana.  Of  all  the  ancient 
shrines  the  most  gorgeous  and  the  most  reno^vned  was  that 
of  the  virgin  goddess,  the  bright,  prolific  moon  of  the  tropic 
East.(')  All  Asia  had  united  in  lavishing  its  vrealth  on  the 
marvelous  Temple  ;  the  ladies  of  Ephesus  had  given  their  jew- 
els to  restore  its  splendors,  and  each  of  its  columns  of  precious 
stone  or  marble  was  the  gift  of  a  king.  Amidst  its  flowery 
groves,  fed  by  perpetual  springs,  the  fair  fabric  arose,  the 
largest  and  most  costly  work  of  the  ancient  architects.  Its  col- 
onnade was  more  than  four  hundred  feet  long  and  two  hundred 
wide,  and  each  Ionic  column  was  sixty  feet  high.  Statues  by 
Praxiteles,  pictures  by  Apelles,  and  countless  works  of  art  em- 
bellished its  labyrinth  of  halls.  In  the  interior  a  rude  wooden 
statue  of  Diana,  venerable  in  its  simplicity,  and  which  was  be- 
lieved to  have  fallen  from  the  skies,  was  hidden  amidst  a  blaze 
of  precious  stones.  A  train  of  effeminate  priests  and  virgin 
priestesses  lived  within  the  sacred  precincts,  swept  in  gorgeous 
processions  through  the  noble  porticoes,  and  celebrated  the 
worship  of  the  guardian  deity  of  Ephesus.  The  high-priest  of 
Diana  was  the  chief  person  in  the  city ;  and  little  images  of 
the  deity,  of  silver  or  gold,  were  manufactured  by  the  jewelers 
of  Ephesus,  and  sold  in  great  numbers  to  her  devout  worship- 
ers throughout  the  East.  In  the  month  of  May,  when  spring 
had  sown  the  fertile  land  with  flowers,  all  Asia  gathered  with- 
in the  sacred  city,  and  celebrated  with  games  and  sports  the 
annual  festival  of  the  goddess. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  Paul  preached  in  Ephesus.  Al- 
ready his  name  was  renowned  in  the  East ;  he  was  looked  upon 
with  alarm  and  hatred  by  priest  and  worshiper.     A  wild  tu- 


(*)  The  Ephesiau  Artemis  can  scarcely  be  disconnected  from  moon  wor- 
ship. Yet  see  Welcker,  Griech.  Gotterlehre,  i.,  p.  562.  She  was  the  symbol 
of  productiveness.  Eckenuanu,  Rel.  G.,  ii.,  67.  "  Der  Cult  der  Ephesischeu 
Artemis  eudlich  ist  ungriechischer."' 


334:  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

mult  arose,  and  the  artisans  of  Ephesiis  called  out  for  his  death. 
He  was  accused  of  having  preached  against  graven  images, 
of  having  insulted  the  majesty  of  Diana.  The  people  rushed 
in  a  great  crowd  to  their  magnificent  theatre,  now  one  of  the 
mounds  that  disfigure  the  silent  shore,  and  shouted  with  in- 
cessant zeal, "  Great  is  Diana  of  Ephesus !"  Paul's  fate  seemed 
certain ;  he  hid  in  a  private  house ;  the  tumult  was  quieted  by 
a  prudent  magistrate ;  the  apostle  escaped.  But  his  voice  had 
pierced  the  splendid  ritual  of  Diana  with  mortal  wounds.  A 
prosperous  church  arose  at  Ephesus  ;  the  pagan  worship  passed 
slowly  away ;  the  graven  images  he  had  condemned  were  laid 
aside  for  a  purer  faith ;  the  famous  Temple  sunk  into  ruins, 
and  in  later  ages  its  jasper  columns  were  ravished  away  to 
adorn  the  Christian  churches  built  by  Constantino.  In  the 
devout  city  of  Ephesus  St.  John  is  said  to  have  passed  his  old 
age,Q  and  a  graceful  tradition  relates  that  when  grown  too 
infirm  to  preach,  he  would  be  carried  to  the  assembly  of  the 
faithful,  and  repeat  the  words, "  Little  children,  love  one  an- 
other." 

Swiftly  the  great  apostle  passed  from  city  to  city,  filling  the 
world  with  the  tumult  of  a  radical  reform.(^)  The  labors  of 
Luther,  of  "Wesley,  of  Whitefield  but  faintly  represent  the  in- 
cessant achievements  of  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life.  At  Co- 
lossse,  at  Philippi  or  Corinth,  he  founded  churches  in  the  centre 
of  rigid  paganism,  and  planted  the  conception  of  ideal  virtue 
in  the  corrupt  soil  of  classic  civilization.  But  it  was  at  Athens 
that  the  eloquence  of  St.  Paul  must  have  gathered  around 
him  the  most  gifted  of  his  audiences.  The  city  had  changed 
but  little  in  appearance  since  Socrates  had  taught  in  its  public 
square,  or  Demostlienes  roused  the  dying  patriotism  of  its  peo- 
ple—  since  Atticus  had  made  it  his  mental  home,  or  Cicero 
studied  in  its  schools.  Still,  on  the  Acropolis,  the  lovely  tem- 
ple of  Pallas  rose  in  the  clear  sunlight  almost  as  perfect  as  in 
the  moment  of  its  completion.     The  gardens  and  groves  of 


(')  Eusebius,  iii.,  31.    The  history  of  Eusebins  is  a  store-house  of  legends. 
(-)  Eusebius,  iii.,  3.     Luke  composed  the  Acts  from  what  he  saw  bim- 
self. 


ATHENS.  335 

Plato  and  Aristotle  were  yet  trodden  by  their  disciples.  The 
statues  of  the  greatest  of  sculptors,  the  pictures  of  the  most 
tasteful  of  painters,  the  most  delicate  conceptions  of  the  ar- 
chitect, and  the  fair  landscape  of  its  unsullied  sea,  made  Athens 
still  the  centre  of  the  beautiful ;  and  its  schools  of  thought 
yet  lingered  fondly  over  the  ballads  of  Homer,  the  wild  crea- 
tions of  ^Eschylus,  and  the  gentle  philosophy  of  Plato.  St. 
Paul  had  no  doubt  studied  Greek  literature  in  his  native  Tar- 
sus, and  could  scarcely  have  entered  its  ancient  seat  without  a 
thrill  of  admiration. 

The  people  of  Athens  were  still  chiefly  philosophers  or  stu- 
dents. .  For  two  centuries  it  had  been  an  academic  city,  the 
university  of  the  world.  They  gathered  eagerly  around  the 
wonderful  Jew.  His  fame  had  no  doubt  reached  the  Agora, 
and  the  Athenians  must  have  known  that  from  him  they  need 
look  for  no  dull  declamation,  no  trite  philosophy.  They  re- 
ceived him  with  respect,  as  he  spoke,  like  Socrates,  in  the  pub- 
lic streets;  they  listened  with  interest,  and  invited  him  to  ad- 
dress them  from  the  Hill  of  Mars.  On  some  fair  day  of  the 
Attic  autumn,  when  the  grasshoppers  chirped  languidly  be- 
neath the  gray  and  dusty  olive,  and  when  the  herbage  was  em- 
browned in  the  gardens  of  Academe,  the  people  of  Athens 
gathered  in  the  open  air,  around  the  stone  pulpic  of  the  ven- 
erable hill.  There  for  ages  had  sat  the  Areopagus — the  su- 
preme tribunal  of  the  State.  There  the  most  eminent  citizens 
of  Athens  had  formed  the  most  respectable  of  human  courts  ; 
there  a  long  succession  of  important  causes  had  awaited  the 
decisions  of  dignified  judges ;  and  there  the  philosophers  and 
students  of  Athens  assembled  to  hear,  for  the  first  time,  the 
higher  eloquence  of  inspiration.  Small,  plain,  wasted  with 
toil  and  sickness,  with  sufferings  and  endless  persecution,  his 
voice  feeble,  his  enunciation  marred  by  the  Semitic  accent, 
Paul  yet  enchained  the  attention  of  his  hearers.  His  Jewish 
face  and  figure  could  scarcely  have  pleased  the  lovers  of  the 
beautiful ;  his  shrill  intonation  must  have  shocked  their  crit- 
ical ears.  But  the  acute  Athenians  may  have  seen  in  his  jJain 
aspect  something  fairer  than  any  exterior  grace.  From  his 
eyes  beamed  the  perfection  of  moral  purity ;  in  his  counte- 


336  THE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

nance  shone  that  perfect  honesty  and  manly  self-control  which 
Plato  had  faintly  described.  He  spoke  of  the  unknown  God, 
now  for  the  first  time  revealed,  of  the  common  brotherhood 
of  man,  of  the  resurrection  and  a  Messiah.  "We  have  but  a 
slight  abstract  of  his  speech,  yet  we  can  readily  imagine  that 
a  solemn  awe  rested  on  the  vast  assembly  as  the  temple-clad 
hills  above  and  the  city  below  echoed  for  the  first  time  with 
the  name  of  the  Omnipresent,  and  philosophers  and  students, 
stoics  and  epicureans,  heard  with  astonishment  a  wisdom  above 
that  of  Plato  and  Aristotle. 

The  Church  of  Athens  sprung  up  at  the  touch  of  Paul.  It 
was  formed,  no  doubt,  on  the  plan  of  that  of  Jerusalem.  It 
had  its  presbyters  and  deacons,  its  modest  rites,  its  simple 
faith.  Its  chief  elder  was  afterward  called  a  bishop,  and  tradi- 
tion relates  that  Dionysius,  a  member  of  the  Areopagus,  who 
had  been  converted  by  the  sermon  on  Mars  Hill,  was  its  first 
presideut.(')  We  have  scarcely  space  to  follow  the  wonderful 
career  of  St.  Paul.  At  length  old  age  approached  him,  and 
he  anticipated  without  alarm  a  martyr's  doom.  He  had  al- 
ways longed  to  preach  at  Eome  and  in  the  farthest  "West :  he 
was  not  to  be  disappointed.  Once  more  he  sailed  along  the 
coasts  of  Asia  Minor,  visiting  the  churches.  At  Miletus  he 
delivered  his  farewell  sermon  to  the  assembled  faithful ;  he 
left  them  kneeling  and  praying  on  the  shore.  He  had  told 
them  they  were  to  see  his  face  no  more.  He  reached  Jerusa- 
lem about  the  year  58,  and  was  received  with  friendly  greet- 
ing by  James  the  Just  and  the  other  elders ;  he  told,  with  his 
usual  vigor,  the  story  of  his  missionary  labors. 

But  Jerusalem  was  now  fast  preparing  its  own  destruction. 
An  insane  hatred  against  the  Pomans,  a  hopeless  longing  for 
freedom,  a  wild  rage  against  the  tolerant  Christians,  filled  the 
vast  multitude  that  came  up  to  the  Temple  to  pray.f)  Had 
the  Jews  yielded  to  the  mild  persuasion  of  James  the  Just  or 
the  liberal  spirit  of  St.  Paul,  Jerusalem  might  have  escaped  its 
awful  fate,  and  have  survived  through  centuries  as  the  head 

OEuscbius,  H.E.,  iv.,23. 

(-)  Couybeare  aud  Howsou,  St.  Paul,  ii.,  p.  244. 


PAUL  AT  JERUSALEM.  337 

of  the  Christian  Church.  Its  people,  however,  were  mad  with 
religious  frenzy.  The  zealots  controlled  the  nation ;  the  Ro- 
mans felt  that  they  were  hated,  and  retaliated  by  a  cruel  op- 
pression ;  and  the  Christians  at  least  foresaw  that  the  dreadful 
day  foretold  by  the  Master  was  near.  In  this  period  of  wild 
fanaticism  among  his  countrymen,  Paul,  too  conspicuous  to  be 
neglected,  in  vain  endeavored,  by  the  advice  of  James,  to  dis- 
arm their  rage  by  conforming  to  the  full  requirements  of  the 
law.  It  was  too  late.  His  name  was  abhorred  by  every  fa- 
natic, by  almost  every  Jew.  In  the  Pentecostal  festival,  when 
the  Temple  was  filled  with  strangers  from  Ephesus  and  Asia, 
he  ventured  within  the  sacred  courts.  He  was  set  upon  by  a . 
ferocious  mob.  Feeble  w^tli  age  and  suffering,  he  was  beat- 
en and  tossed  about,  and  the  people  dragged  him  beyond  the 
Temple  walls  to  put  him  to  death. 

North  of  the  Temple,  and  joined  to  it  by  a  bridge  or  stairs, 
stood  the  Castle  of  Antonia,  now  filled  with  a  Eoman  garrison. 
From  its  turrets  the  sentinels  kept  watch  over  the  excited 
worshipers  below  them  in  the  sacred  courts,  and  carefully  ob- 
served their  conduct.  The  Komans  saw  Paul  struggling  in 
the  throng,  and  a  band  of  soldiers  sprung  down  the  stairway 
into  the  Temple  court  to  save  him  from  their  rage.  They 
dragged  him  up  the  stairs ;  he  was  safe.  Yet,  in  the  fierce 
excitement  of  this  perilous  moment,  the  apostle  still  hoped  to 
soften  and  preserve  his  countrymen.  lie  said  to  the  Roman 
commander,  "  May  I  speak  ?"  He  obtained  permission,  and 
then  turned  to  the  Jews  below.  He  waved  his  hand,  and  sud- 
denly the  angry  people  grew  still.  The  spectacle  of  that  last 
appeal  to  Jerusalem  still  stirs  the  fancy  more  than  the  high- 
est efforts  of  Cicero  or  Gracchus.  Paul  stood  on  an  elevation 
looking  down  into  the  Temple  court.(')  Above  him  glittered 
the  Holy  House  so  soon  to  pass  away.  Before  him  shone  the 
hill  of  Zion ;  below,  the  proud  and  prosperous  city ;  silent  at 
his  feet  hung  the  multitude  from  whose  rage  he  had  just 
escaped,  bruised,  beaten,  and  forlorn,  whose  coming  doom  he 
foresaw,  whom  he  strove  in  vain  to  save.     His  clear  voice 

(')  Couybeare  and  Howsou,  ii.,  ji.  255. 

99 


338  THE  CHVRCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

rang  out  in  his  own  melodious  tongue  through  the  Temple 
and  the  castle,  as  he  recounted  his  conversion,  his  penitence, 
and  hope.  The  Jews  listened;  perhaps  some  believed.  But 
when  he  spoke  of  the  mission  to  the  Gentiles,  of  toleration  for 
their  oppressors,  the  hate  of  the  fanatical  nation  broke  forth 
in  a  terrible  clamor.  They  cried  out  that  he  was  a  wretch 
unlit  to  live — that  he  polluted  the  earth ;  in  their  rage,  they 
tore  their  garments  and  threw  dust  upon  their  heads.  The 
Roman  commander,  Lysias,  was  now  convinced  that  Paul  had 
committed  some  dreadful  crime,  and  ordered  him  to  be  carried 
to  the  castle  and  put  to  torture.  He  was  hurried  to  a  dun- 
geon ;  the  instruments  of  torture  were  brought,  when  the 
apostle  declared  himself  a  Roman  citizen.     He  was  saved.(') 

After  the  day  of  hori'ors  he  probably  slept  in  the  castle. 
He  lay  surrounded  by  the  coarse  soldiers,  yet  less  cruel  than 
his  countrymen.  The  next  day  Lysias  sent  him  under  a 
guard  before  the  Sanhedrim ;  and  in  the  hall  of  Gazith,  with- 
in the  Temple,  where  he  had  himself  sat  twenty-five  years  be- 
fore to  condemn  Stephen,  Paul  ventured  to  defend  his  own 
career  of  penitence.(^)  Rage  tilled  the  hearts  of  the  insane 
council ;  the  higli-priest,  Ananias,  ordered  him  to  be  smitten 
in  the  face.  Yet  the  apostle  spoke  with  vigor,  and  even  won 
the  favor  of  a  part  of  liis  judges.  The  council-room  was  tilled 
with  an  angry  multitude,  and  the  Roman  commander  sent  a 
guard  to  bring  Paul  back  to  the  castle.  In  the  night  Paul's 
nephew,  his  sister's  son,  heard  that  a  band  of  forty  Jews  had 
sworn  to  assassinate  his  uncle.  They  belonged  probably  to  the 
party  of  the  zealots,  and  had  gained  the  assent  of  the  Sanhe- 
drim, the  highest  court  in  the  cit}',  to  tlieir  horrible  design. 
Paul  told  the  Romans  of  his  danger.  In  the  night  he  was 
sent  secretly  out  of  the  city,  under  a  strong  guard,  to  Csesarea. 
Swiftly  the  well  -  trained  soldiers,  with  their  weary  charge, 
swept  over  the  road  to  the  distant  town,  rousing  the  sleeping 
peasant  by  their  steady  march,  and  followed  by  the  curses  of 
the  subject  Jew.     They  passed  the  hills  of  Ephraim,  the  fields 

(')  Conybeare  aiul  Howsoii,  ii.,  p.  259. 

(*)  lie  addressed  tbem  as  equals — "  Meu  and  brothers." 


C^SAREA.  339 

of  Sharon  glowing  with  a  bountiful  harvest,  the  mountains  of 
Samaria,  The  foot  -  soldiers  w^ent  only  part  of  the  way  ;  the 
cavalry  pressed  on,  and  in  the  bright  afternoon  of  the  Jewish 
summer  rode  into  Csesarea.C) 

It  was  the  sea-port  of  Judsea,  the  seat  of  the  Roman  gov- 
ernor, a  city  adorned  by  Herod  the  Great  with  all  the  reline- 
ments  of  Roman  taste.  Its  port  was  a  basin  of  stone -work 
of  singular  beauty.  Its  temples  and  theatres,  its  palaces  and 
gardens,  were  modeled  upon  those  of  Rome.  Its  name  was 
a  compliment  to  the  Csesars.  Up  to  its  low  shores  rolled  the 
blue  Mediterranean,  bearing  the  wares  and  the  shijDS  of  Italy 
to  the  land  of  David ;  yet,  later,  to  bring  them  tilled  with 
arms.  To-day  the  wild  bushes  grow  over  the  site  of  the  pal- 
aces where  Herod,  the  two  Agrippas,  Felix,  and  Festus  held 
their  revelry  ;Q  where  the  frail  Berenice  won  or  enchained 
the  heart  of  Titus  ;(^)  over  the  fragments  of  temples  and  the 
sunken  stone-work  of  the  ancient  walls.  Yet  Caesarea  is  hal- 
lowed by  the  foot-prints  of  St.  Paul.  Above  its  lonely  w^aste 
one  sacred  figure  still  seems  to  hover  perpetually  ;  from  its 
solemn  ruin  one  voice  is  forever  heard.  Here  for  two  years 
Paul  was  held  a  prisoner.  Here,  soon  after  his  arrival,  he  was 
brought  before  Felix  to  be  judged.  The  most  infamous  of 
men,  according  to  Tacitus,  cruel,  vicious,  treacherous,(^)  sat  in 
judgment  upon  him  wdio  was  to  be  the  herald  of  purity  to 
mankind.  Paul's  accusers,  the  Jewish  priests,  full  of  that 
bitter  hate  toward  him  wdiich  seems  to  have  risen  to  insani- 
ty, hastened  from  Jerusalem  to  Ciesarea  to  give  testimony  to 
his  guilt.  There,  in  the  judgment-hall,  stood  the  tierce  high- 
priest,  Ananias,  the  chief  members  of  the  Sanhedrim,  and  a 
hired  advocate  employed  to  convict  Paul  of  treason  against 
Rome.     Amidst  his  tierce  accusers,  before  the  terrible  judge, 

(')  It  was  the  Pentecostal  season,  iu  July.  Caisarea  was  about  sixty 
miles  from  Jerusalem. 

C')  Pococke,  Travels  in  the  East. 

(')  They  met  first  at  Csesarea  Philippi ;  yet  Titus  must  often  have  been 
detained  at  the  sea-port. 

C)  Tacitus,  Hist.,  v.,  9.  Suetonius,  Claud.,  28,  calls  him  "  Trium  regiua- 
rum  maritus." 


340  THE   CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

the  wayworn,  aged  apostle  spoke  with  his  usual  fire ;  the  judge 
hesitated ;  the  decision  was  postponed  ;  the  high-priest  and  his 
followers  went  back,  disappointed,  to  Jerusalem.  Again,  at 
C^esarea,  Paul  was  brought  before  Felix  and  his  wife,  Drusilla  ; 
and  now,  at  the  sound  of  his  rapt  voice,  Felix  trembled.  Two 
years  passed  away.  Often,  followed  by  his  guard,  the  apostle 
probably  wandered  along  the  sandy  beach  of  Csesarea,  and 
gazed  with  a  martyr's  hope  upon  the  sea  that  was  to  be  his 
pathway  to  Rome  and  death.  At  length  Felix  was  removed 
from  office.  Festus  was  now  governor,  and,  with  strange  per- 
sistence, the  fanatic  Jews  urged  him  to  destroy  Paul.  They 
hoped  to  assassinate  him  within  the  Holy  City ;  but  Festus 
refused  to  allow  the  prisoner  to  be  taken  back  to  Jerusalem. 
He  summoned  Paul  before  him,  and  again  at  Cajsarea  the  tri- 
al was  renewed ;  again  the  implacable  priests  came  to  prove 
Paul  worthy  of  death ;  again  they  were  disappointed.  "  I  aj)- 
peal,"  cried  the  apostle, ''  to  Csesar."  He  must  now  be  sent  to 
Rome  to  be  tried  by  Nero  in  person.  Yet  before  he  went,  at 
Csesarea,  in  the  audience-chamber  of  some  magnificent  palace, 
whose  ruin  now  lies  undistinguished  on  that  desolate  plain, 
King  Agrippa  II.,  then  a  3"0ung  man  of  twenty-six,  his  sister 
Berenice,  beautiful  as  frail,  and  the  generous  Festus,  called  be- 
fore them  the  famous  missionary,  and  listened  patiently  to  his 
wonderful  theme.  He  was  chained  to  a  soldier.  He  could 
stretch  out  only  one  of  his  hands.  Yet  the  youthful  king,  the 
fair,  unhappy  princess,  the  friendly  governor,  heard  perhaps 
with  solemn  awe,  perhaps  with  pretended  levity,  the  divine 
message.  Once  Festus  interrupted  him.  Once  Agrippa  said, 
"  Thou  wilt  soon  persuade  me  to  be  a  Christian."  Then  they 
separated  and  passed  away.  The  dissolute  king,  the  voluptu- 
ous woman,  to  despair  and  death  ;  the  eloquent  old  man  to  the 
priceless  joys  of  martyrdom.  Thus  Cnesarea  and  its  princely 
state  revive  with  the  memory  of  Paul. 

Next  the  apostle  is  seen  on  the  deck  of  a  huge  Alexandrian 
corn  vessel,  guarded  by  Roman  soldiers,  passing  slowly  along 
the  southern  coast  of  Crete  on  the  way  to  Rome.f )     That  the 

(■-)  Couybeare  and  Howsou  describe  at  large  the  famous  voyage,  oh.  xxiii. 


PAUL  IN  THE  STORM.      -  341 

ship  was  very  large  is  shown  from  the  circumstance  that  two 
hundred  and  sixty-seven  persons,  besides  a  heavy  cargo,  found 
shelter  within  it.(')  Like  all  ancient  vessels,  it  was  badly  con- 
structed, and  in  moments  of  danger  was  strengthened  by  ropes 
passed  around  the  keel.  It  had  two  rudders;  its  course  was 
very  slow.  The  wind  at  first  was  uncertain ;  the  ship  reached 
the  port  of  the  Fair  Havens  safely,  and  here  Paul  advised  the 
captain  to  stay ;  but  the  wind  was  now  favorable,  and  the  sail- 
or drifted  on  before  it.  Then  suddenly  broke  upon  the  un- 
manageable ship  a  fierce  storm  from  the  mountains,  driving 
her  toward  the  African  shore.  It  was  one  of  the  hurricanes 
of  the  Mediterranean.  The  waves  rose  high ;  the  sky  was 
covered  with  a  perpetual  night ;  torrents  of  rain  fell  inces- 
santly ;  the  wind  drove  the  struggling  vessel  from  its  course. 
For  fourteen  days  the  Euroclydon  held  the  great  corn  ship  in 
its  grasp.  She  sprung  a  leak ;  was  rapidly  filling  with  water; 
despair  ruled  on  board ;  and  Romans  and  Egyptians,  officers 
and  crew,  assembled  on  the  deck,  looking  for  instant  death. 
But  Paul  alone,  with  cheerful  countenance,  watched  the  angry 
skies,  the  raging  seas,  and  said  to  his  fellow-passengers,  "  Be 
of  good  cheer ;  you  are  safe."  Next,  in  the  lull  of  the  tem- 
pest, was  heard  the  roar  of  distant  breakers  —  the  ominous 
sound  of  land.  Paul  in  the  moment  of  peril  almost  held  com- 
mand of  the  ship ;  he  pressed  the  terrified  passengers  and  crew 
to  take  food  to  sustain  their  strength  ;  he  ordered  the  boat 
to  be  cut  adrift ;  the  cargo  was  thrown  overboard ;  the  ship 
struck  with  a  violent  shock  on  an  unknown  coast,  and  broke 
to  pieces.  It  was  a  lonely  part  of  the  island  of  Malta.  Float- 
ing on  portions  of  the  wreck,  or  swimming  through  the  surf, 
the  whole  ship's  crew  escaped,  as  Paul  had  foretold.  Roman 
and  Egyptian,  bond  and  free,  perhaps,  gathered  around  the 
apostle  as  he  knelt  on  the  desolate  coast  and  gave  thanks  to 
Heaven. 

Of  the  later  career  of  St.  Paul  we  have  little  room  to  speak.(') 
He  became  the  connecting  link  between  the  Church  of  Jeru- 

(')  Penrose  estimated  the  ship's  hurdeD  at  five  hundred  tons. 
(')  Conybearo  and  Howson  may  be  consulted,  chh.  xxv.,  sxvii. 


3:1:2  THE  CHUECH  OF  JEHUS ALEM. 

salem  cand  the  early  Church  of  Eome.  lie  impressed  upon 
liis  first  converts  his  own  honesty  and  simplicity.  The  Church 
of  Rome  owed  at  least  its  chief  vigor  to  the  preaching  of  the 
saint.  His  disciples,  Linus  and  Clement,  became  its  first  pres- 
byters, or  bishops ;  and  the  epistle  of  the  latter  to  the  Corin- 
thians is  full  of  the  liberality  and  humility  of  Paul.(')  From 
Jerusalem  to  Eome  Paul  bore  only  the  simplicity  of  the  faith. 
Yet  history  throws  but  a  feeble  light  on  the  last  days  of  the 
apostle.  At  Rome  he  lived  a  prisoner  in  his  own  hired  house ; 
he  preached  and  wrote  incessantly,  in  his  own  handwriting,  his 
letters  and  exhortations.  He  was  probably  tried  again.  He 
stood  before  Nero,  the  Pontifex  Maximus  of  the  ancient  faith, 
in  the  imperial  court ;  again  one  of  the  most  wicked  of  man- 
kind sat  in  judgment  upon  the  most  innocent ;  again  St.  Paul 
must  have  spoken — must  have  been  set  free.  From  this  time 
nothing  is  known  of  his  career ;  yet  tradition  relates  that  he 
preached  in  the  fair  cities  of  Spain,  was  perhaps  permitted  to 
revisit  his  infant  churches  in  Greece,  and  then  returned  again 
to  become  a  martyr  at  Rome.  Far  out  on  the  Ostian  Way, 
in  a  desolate  country,  once  clothed  with  groves  and  gardens, 
a  magnificent  church,  crusted  with  marble  and  costly  stones, 
rich  in  painting  and  mosaic — a  miracle  of  useless  wastefulness 
and  splendor — arises  on  the  spot  where  tradition  indicates  that 
the  Roman  lictors  beheaded  St.  Paul.Q  His  boundless  suffer- 
ings and  toils,  his  manly  energy,  his  ceaseless  hope,  his  joyous 
trustfulness,  and  his  supernatural  powers,  have  made  him  the 
most  eminent  of  the  apostles. 

With  the  labors  of  St.  Paul  at  Rome  is  connected  the  most 
important  or  the  most  insignificant  of  historical  questions  :Q 
Was  St.  Peter  his  coadjutor?  was  Peter  ever  at  Rome?  To 
the  Protestant  the  question  is  of-  little  consequence  ;  to  the  de- 
fenders of  an  infallible  papacy  it  is  the  most  momentous  of 

(')Eusebins,  H.E.,  iii.,  4. 

(')  Merivale,  H.  R.,  v.,  p.  276  et  seq.,  and  Gibbon,  o.  xvi.,  doubt  the  martyr- 
dom of  Paul  and  the  persecution  of  the  Christians  under  Nero. 

(')  The  literature  of  this  question  is,  of  course,  immense,  from  Spanheim 
to  Gieseler.  Schaff  and  some  Protestants  admit  the  tradition  (see  Schaff, 
p.  362),  but  only  iu  part.     See  Neauder,  Kiroh.  Gesch.,  1.,  p.  317,  and  note. 


WAS  ST.  PETER  AT  ROME  ?  343 

all.  If  St.  Peter  was  never  at  Eome,  or  went  thither  only  to 
be  martyred,  the  whole  fabric  of  the  papacy  must  fall  with- 
out a  blow.  For  how  could  Peter  transfer  from  Jerusalem  to 
Pome  an  infallible  primacy  ?  How  could  he  have  reigned  as 
the  vicar  of  Christ,  the  lord  of  kings,  the  vicegerent  of  Heaven, 
in  a  city  which  he  never  visited,  and  whose  infant  Church  was 
fostered  or  founded  by  Paul  and  his  disciples.(') 

Historically  it  is  impossible  that  St.  Peter  could  ever  have 
entered  the  Imperial  City.  St.  Luke,  his  contemporary,  who 
wrote  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  would  certainly  never  have 
neglected  to  mention  the  most  important  of  them  all ;  but  St. 
Luke  confines  Peter's  missionary  labors  to  the  distant  East. 
St.  Paul  in  his  letters  carefully  enumerates  the  chief  members 
of  the  Church  at  Pome  ;  the  name  of  St.  Peter  never  occurs  in 
the  apostolic  record. (^)  During  his  imprisonment  no  one  but 
Luke,  he  said,  was  with  him.  We  have  St.  Peter's  own  epistle. 
It  is  dated  at  Babylon,  and  is  addressed  to  the  distant  churches 
of  the  East,  where  he  had  long  been  laboring.  Whenever  he 
appears  in  the  sacred  writings,  St.  Peter  is  always  at  Jerusa- 
lem or  preaching  in  its  neighborhood  ;Q  when  he  writes  him- 
self he  is  founding  churches  in  Asia,  and  wholly  forgets  to 
assert  that  he  is  the  infallible  representative  of  the  Deity  on 
earth,  reigning  at  Rome.  He  calls  himself,  indeed,  only  an 
elder  among  elders. 

Tradition,  therefore,  is  the  only  foundation  of  the  legend. 
To  have  famous  martyrs  was  the  chief  pride  of  the  early 
churches,  and  it  is  possible  that  some  ardent  presbyter  of 
Rome,  as  fanciful  as  Prudentius,  first  conducted  St.  Peter  to 
his  martyrdom  on  the  Vatican.  The  story  grew  with  the  lapse 
of  time.  His  tomb  was  discovered ;  he  was  crucified  with  his 
head  downward ;  his  frequent  timidity  was  recalled  in  the 
legend  of  his  flight  and  of  the  apparition  of  his  Lord ;  and 
when  the  Papal  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages  began  its  usurpa- 

(')  Even  Neander  finally  doubted  tbo  tradition  (Apost.  Gescb.):  in  bis 
Cbnrcb  Hist,  be  accepted  it. 

(^)  See  tbe  list  in  Epist.  to  Romans. 

(^)  Tbe  Roniisb  writers  make  Peter  travel  as  widely  as  St.  Paul  (Baro- 
nius,  i.,  455) ;  but  of  tbis,  Luke  knew  uotbiug. 


344  THE   CHUECH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

tion,  it  boldly  claimed,  enlarging  upon  St.  Jerome,  that  Peter 
had  reigned  for  twenty  -  five  years  as  the  vicar  of  Christ  at 
Itome.(')  The  legend  was  first  pronounced  a  fable  by  the 
acnte  Waldenses,  who  had  for  ages  scoffed  at  the  papal  pre- 
tensions, and  who  claim  to  represent  the  opinions  of  the  early 
Church  that  preceded  and  resisted  the  haughty  hierarchy  of 
Constantino.  The  traditions  of  the  Vaudois,  the  Church  of 
the  people,  may  at  least  counterbalance  those  of  the  Eomish 
priesthood,  and  confirm  the  accuracy  of  the  Scriptural  his- 
tory.C) 

.  But  we  must  hasten  to  the  last  period  (66-70)  of  the  suffer- 
ings of  Jerusalem  and  its  Church.  A  deeper  mental  darkness, 
a  wilder  fanaticism,  rested  upon  the  sacred  city.  The  broth- 
erhood of  the  zealots,  linked  together  by  their  terrible  oath, 
grew  in  numbers  and  ruled  the  policy  of  the  nation.  The 
wild  robbers  issued  from  their  mountain  caves  to  spread  des- 
olation over  Galilee  and  Jud[ea ;  assassins  filled  the  city ;  the 
multitudes  who  came  up  to  the  Temple  were  roused  to  frenzy 
by  the  secret  promptings  of  the  robber  patriots  ;  the  children 
of  Israel — poetic,  impassioned,  Semitic,  easily  moved  to  a  vain 
self-confidence,  easily  driven  to  a  mad  despair — fancied  that 
by  a  violent  struggle  they  might  shake  off  the  yoke  of  Rome.(') 
The  higher  orders  of  the  city,  the  more  intelligent,  knew  that 
the  plan  was  hopeless;  but  the  half-savage  zealots  from  the 
rural  districts  now  governed  Jerusalem.  In  this  moment  of 
patriotic  excitement  the  Christians,  who  would  take  no  share 
in  the  rebellion,  were  probably  looked  upon  as  traitors  as  well 
as  heretics.  The  chief  victim  of  this  intense  hatred  was  James 
the  Just,  the  brother  of  the  Lord.  For  thirty  years  the  face 
and  form  of  the  son  of  Mary  had  been  knoAvn  to  all  Jerusa- 

(')  Baronius,  with  excessive  minuteness,  names  the  year  45  Petri  Annus 
1,  Ann.  Ecc,  i.,  409.  He  knows  oven  the  day  on  which  the  Roman  Church 
was  horn.     Neander  doubts  even  the  martyrdom,  Plant.  Chris.,  i.,  p.  358. 

(^)  See  Wahlensian  Researches,  Gilly,  vol.  i.,  p.  42,  and  Leger.  The  Wal- 
denses boast  a  direct  descent  from  the  apostles.  The  Nobla  Leycon,  a  poem 
of  the  year  1100, notices  their  origin;  but  often,  they  have  been  nearly  ex- 
tirpated by  the  papal  persecutions. 

(^)  Rabelleau,  Histoire  des  H^breus,  ii.,  p.  285.     A  useful  narrative. 


MJJtTYEDOM  OF  JAMES  THE  JUST.  345 

lem ;  lie  had  grown  old  as  the  head  of  the  Christian  sect ;  his 
\nrtues  were  admired  by  Jew  as  well  as  Christian  ;  and  he  had 
striven,  by  gentle  compliances,  to  disarm  the  malice  of  his  fel- 
low-citizens. He  had  never,  like  Paul,  denounced  the  Mosaic 
law ;  or,  like  a  greater  than  Paul,  preached  a  new  dispensation. 
In  form  and  appearance  James  is  said  to  have  so  closely  re- 
sembled his  divine  brother  as  scarcely  to  be  distinguished 
from  him.(')  He  was  now  to  share  a  not  dissimilar  fate. 
When  Paul  had  escaped  l>y  appealing  to  Caesar,  the  enraged 
Jews,  says  Eusebius,  turned  their  fury  against  James.f )  In 
some  wild  season  of  fanaticism,  when  the  city  teemed  with 
savage  worshipers,  the  priests  and  people  seized  James,  per- 
haps as  he  climbed  the  sacred  terraces  to  pray,  and  bore  him 
to  a  high  tower  of  the  Temple,  overlooking  the  Gentile  court 
below.  The  Sadducees  were  the  bitterest  enemies  of  the 
Christians.  It  was  the  young  Sadducee  high-priest  Ananus 
that  led  the  new  persecution.  "We  may  imagine  the  venerable 
saint  standing  on  the  giddy  height,  waiting  to  be  thrown  down 
on  the  pavement  far  beneath.(')  They  commanded  him  to  re- 
nounce his  faith  in  Christ.  He  replied  by  pointing  to  the 
risen  Lord  above.  With  rage  they  cast  him  down.  When  he 
had  fallen,  the  multitude  stoned  him  nearly  to  death.  "  See," 
said  a  by-stander,  "  Justus  is  praying  for  you."  A  fuller  beat 
out  the  brains  of  the  dying  saint  with  his  club.  His  tomb- 
stone was  afterward  shown  outside  the  Temple.  So  eminent 
were  the  virtues  and  the  fame  of  the  brother  of  Christ  that 
Josephus  attributes  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  to  the  an- 
ger of  Heaven  at  the  insane  cruelty  of  his  countrymen.(^)  The 
family  of  the  Saviour,  however,  still  ruled  over  the  Church  at 
Jerusalem ;  they  possessed  a  kind  of  hereditary  claim  to  its 
leadership ;  and  after  the  fall  of  the  city,  Simeon,  the  brother 
or  the  cousin  of  James,  tilled  his  place  for  many  years  with 
ecjual  virtues,  and  died  a  martyr  in  extreme  old  age.(^) 


(')  Epistle  of  Ignatius. 

C)  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  ii.,  23.     The  accounts  of  his  death  varj'. 

(')  Hegesippus,  quoted  by  Eusebius,  gives  the  story,  ii.,  23. 

(*)  Josephus.     Eusebius,  ii.,  23.  O  Eusebius^  iii.,  11. 


SttG  THE  cnuncH  of  Jerusalem. 

Around  the  city  of  Mount  Zion,  according  to  the  Talmuds 
and  Josephus,  began  now  to  gather  the  omens  of  its  doom. 
In  the  western  sky,  as  the  sun  was  setting,  the  crimson  clouds 
formed  themselves  in  the  image  of  a  battle-field.  Armies 
rushed  over  the  fading  heavens,  engaged  in  a  dreadful  con- 
test ;  chariots  filled  with  armed  men  contended  on  the  celestial 
plain ;  cities  were  surrounded  and  sacked ;  the  fate  of  Jerusa- 
lem was  painted  on  the  skies.(')  Within  its  walls  the  prodi- 
gies were  equally  alarming.  A  supernatural  fire  shone  over 
the  Temple  in  the  midst  of  the  night ;  the  great  eastern  gate, 
which  could  scarcely  be  shut  by  twenty  men,  bolted  and  fast- 
ened by  immense  bars  of  iron,  rolled  open  of  its  own  accord ; 
and  when  the  priests  were  ministering  in  the  inner  sanctuary 
they  heard  the  noise  of  a  multitude  of  voices  crying, "Let  us 
remove  hence."  A  blazing  comet,  shaped  like  a  sword,  hung 
over  the  city.  A  madman  or  a  prophet  ran  through  the  streets, 
crying,  "  Woe,  woe  to  the  city,  to  the  people,  to  the  Holy 
House !"  No  jjunishment,  no  kindness,  no  prayers  could  si- 
lence his  mournful  wail.  For  seven  years  he  kept  up  his 
ceaseless  cry,  until,  during  the  siege,  a  stone  from  an  engine 
struck  him  dead.Q  The  Christians,  too,  remembering  the 
prophecy  of  the  Lord,  knew  that  the  evil  days  were  approach- 
ing, and  prepared  to  fly  from  the  coming  woe. 

In  the  last  years  of  Nero's  reign  the  war  broke  out.  The 
madness  of  the  Jews,  the  cruelty  of  the  Romans,  arraved  the 
two  hostile  races  against  each  other.  The  Jews  were  at  first 
successful  in  driving  off  a  Eoman  army ;  and  Nero,  who  was 
singing  and  acting  before  the  applauding  audiences  of  Rome, 
sent  his  best  commander,  Yespasian,  to  repress  the  insurrec- 
tion. Jerusalem,  meantime,  had  become  an  armed  fortress, 
the  centre  of  rebellion.  Its  priestly  rulers  made  preparations 
for  an  inexpiable  war.  The  city  was  filled  with  provisions, 
arms,  and  men ;  the  walls  were  strengthened,  the  towers  gar- 


(')  Josephus,  B.  J.,  vi.,  5. 

(■)  The  Tulmiuls  repeat  the  prodigies,  and  show  the  overwrought  condi- 
tion of  the  Jewish  niind.  Nothing  was  natural — nothing  simple.  Deren- 
bourg,  i.,  p.  280  et  scq. 


GALILEE  EAVAGED.  34:7 

risoned;  all  Palestine  had  risen  in  revolt;  and  skillful  leaders 
were  set  over  the  different  provinces  to  array  the  popnlace  in 
military  order.  It  was  hoped,  it  was  believed,  that  every  Jew 
would  join  the  army,  and  that  the  Komans  would  be  over- 
whelmed by  an  immense  host,  irresistible  in  fanatical  zeal. 

Galilee,  the  most  northern  province,  filled  with  populous 
cities  and  a  warlike  people,  must  first  meet  the  shock  of  in- 
vasion.(')  It  was  placed  under  the  command  of  the  historian 
Josephus.  A  cloud  of  doubt  will  ever  rest  upon  the  character 
of  this  eminent  writer.  In  his  own  age  he  was  looked  upon 
as  a  traitor,  the  destroyer  of  his  country,  and  his  most  favora- 
ble commentators  have  admitted  his  feebleness  and  his  inef- 
ficiency ;Q  yet  in  his  own  writings  Josephus  has  painted  him- 
self in  such  favorable  colors  as  to  have  won  the  regard  of  gen- 
erations of  readers.  He  was  rich,  high-born,  connected  with 
the  noble  and  priestly  families  of  Jerusalem,  and  his  learning 
and  mental  culture  have  given  him  a  respectable  place  among 
the  inferior  historians ;  but  as  a  commander  he  was  singu- 
larly unfortunate.  He  entered  Galilee  commissioned  to  raise 
an  army  of  one  hundred  thousand  men;  he  obtained  only 
eight  thousand.  He  aroused  no  enthusiasm  among  the  war- 
like people ;  his  movements  were  slow  and  ineffectual.  Ves- 
pasian invaded  the  flourisliing  province,  and,  with  terrible  rav- 
ages, sacked  its  happy  cities  and  filled  its  sacred  landscape 
with  scenes  of  woe.  The  Lake  of  Genesareth  was  dyed  with 
blood.  Its  charming  environs,  the  paradise  of  Palestine,  re- 
sounded with  lamentation. (')  The  Roman  cavalry  swept  over 
the  country,  killing  the  helpless  people.  Josephus  was  be- 
sieged at  Jotopata,  was  beaten ,(")  was  captured,  made  his 
peace  with  the  Romans,  and  lived  and  died  the  companion 
and  the  friend  of  his  country's  destroyers. 

Vespasian  moved  slowly  onward,  destroying  the  country 
as  he  passed.(*)     He  left  behind  him  a  bleeding,  half-desolate 

(')  Josephus,  B.  J.,  iii.,  3.  C)  Id.,  iii.,  10. 

(')  Rapbal],  Post-Bib.  Hist.,  ii.,  p.  417.  ' 

C)  "  Jos^phe,"  says  Dereubourg,  i.,  p.  417,  "  m<5rite  peu  de  confiance  pour 
ce  qu'il  raconte  de  cette  lutto  supreme  de  ses  coreligiouuaires,"  etc. 
(')  Rapball,  ii.,  p.  4'28. 


348  THE  CHVECR  OF  JEliVSALEM. 

waste.  He  swept  throiigli  Samaria,  and  the  Samaritan  wom- 
en wept  over  their  husbands  and  their  brothers  slain  on  the 
hill  of  Gerizim.  Joppa  and  Tiberias  fell.  He  passed  around 
Jerusalem,  and  ravaged  all  Judaja,  Emmaus  and  Jericho, 
Lydda  and  Jamna,  surrendered.  He  killed  ten  thousand  men 
in  the  heart  of  Idumaea,  The  Dead  Sea  echoed  to  the  note  of 
the  Roman  trumpets ;  all  Palestine  had  felt  the  dreadful  dis- 
cipline of  the  Eoman  chief.  Two  years  of  warfare  passed ; 
Jerusalem  stood  alone  in  the  midst  of  its  ruined  country.  At 
this  moment  Nero  was  dead  ;  Vitellius  ruled  at  Rome ;  a  war 
of  succession  followed ;  Rome  was  filled  with  massacres ;  and 
at  last  Yespasian  was  proclaimed  emperor.  The  impoverished 
soldier,  the  horse-dealer,  the  plebeian,  was  alone  fitted  to  con- 
trol that  mighty  empire  that  reached  from  the  Jordan  to  the 
Thames.  He  left  Judsea  for  Rome,  and  the  conquest  of  Jeru- 
salem was  intrusted  to  a  young  man  of  twenty-seven,  his  son, 
Titus. 

A  cloud  of  horror  now  rested  upon  the  Holy  City.(')  Its 
condition  resembled  that  of  Paris  in  the  dreadful  days  of  ter- 
ror when  the  prisons  were  filled  with  the  suspected,  the  scaf- 
fold ran  with  blood,  and  robbers  and  miscreants  had  risen  to 
rule  in  the  fatal  despair  that  had  fallen  upon  its  people.  The 
Christian  Church  had  fled  from  the  city,  warned  l3y  the  proph- 
ecies of  their  Master,  and  found  refuge  in  the  little  town  of 
Pella,  beyond  the  Jordan.  Many  of  the  wealthy  and  cultivated 
Jews  had  also  escaped  from  Jerusalem  ;  but  their  places  were 
filled  by  a  savage  company  of  refugees  from  desolate  Galilee 
and  Judfea,  the  robbers  of  Libanus,  and  the  zealots  of  the 
distant  towns.  John  of  Giscala  led  the  furious  horde ;  and  a 
fierce  assault  was  begun  U])on  the  native  citizens,  who  were 
believed  to  have  shared  in  the  treachery  of  Josephus,  and  to 
have  meditated  an  abject  surrender  to  Rome.  Night  and  day, 
robberies,  massacres,  and  civil  war  filled  the  streets  of  Jerusa- 


(')  The  Talmuds  give  Derenhourg  only  a  few  anecdotes  of  the  condition 
of  the  city,  i.,  p.  280.  Yet  the  legends  celebrate  the  valor  of  the  Jews,  and 
are  all  on  the  iiatriot  side,  i.,  p.  284.  See  Eabelleau,  Hist,  des  Hebreux, 
ii.,  p.  294. 


TEE  LAST  PASSOVER.  349 

lem.  The  citizens,  led  by  Ananiis,  tlie  high-priest,  strove  to 
destroy  the  zealots  in  the  Temple ;  bnt  on  a  dark  and  stormy 
night  a  band  of  Idumseans  broke  into  the  city  and  over- 
whelmed the  resistance  of  the  priestly  faction.  Simon,  an- 
other brave  and  cruel  partisan,  entered  Jerusalem  and  garri- 
soned the  hill  of  Zion.(')  Between  John  in  the  Temple  and 
Simon  in  the  upper  city  a  constant  warfare  raged ;  their  sol- 
diers fought  madly  with  each  other  on  the  bridge  that  joined 
Mount  Zion  with  the  Temple ;  and  united  only  in  the  plunder 
and  massacre  of  the  helpless  citizens,  whom  they  accused  of 
being  inclined  to  peace  with  Rome.  Day  and  night  the  fight- 
ing went  on  ;  a  ceaseless  lamentation  for  the  dead  resound- 
ed over  Jerusalem ;  the  city  was  sacked  and  desolated  by  the 
robbers;  and  while  Yespasian  was  sweeping  over  Judiea,(') 
the  Jews  consumed  their  strength  in  horrible  excesses.  All 
preparations  for  defense  were  neglected ;  the  stricken  city 
seemed  filled  only  with  raging  madmen. 

The  Passover  drew  near,  and  in  the  first  days  of  April,  in 
the  year  70,  the  Jews  gathered  in  multitudes  at  Jei'usalem  to 
celebrate  for  the  last  time  the  most  sacred  festival  of  the  law. 
The  poor  remnants  of  a  fallen  nation,  they  yet  filled  once 
more  the  desecrated  courts  of  the  Temple.  Still  the  priests 
performed  with  sad  minuteness  the  various  rites;  still  in  the 
midst  of  the  raging  factions  the  smoke  of  the  bumt-oiferings 
arose  from  the  holy  altar,  and  the  Psalms  of  David  resounded 
through  the  inner  sanctuary ;  still  the  countless  worshipers 
made  their  way  through  streets  filled  with  the  dead  and  the 
dying,  and  went  up  to  the  Temple  to  pray.  Still  John  and 
Simon  watched  each  other  from  their  hostile  hills,  and  with 
fierce  forays  terrified  and  desolated  the  fairest  quarters  of  Je- 
rusalem.    But  suddenly  their  rivalry  ceased.(^)     A  common 

(')  Rabellocan,  v.,  p.  301. 

(^)  Tacitus,  H.,  v.,  10:  "Intra  duas  estates  cniicta  cainporimi,  oinucsque 
prseter  Hierosolyma  urbes."     The  accouut  of  Tacitus  is  ouly  a  fragment. 

(^)  Josephus  has  described  witli  minuteness,  Tacitus  with  a  few  brief 
touches  of  genius,  the  ojiening  of  the  Avouderfnl  siege;  but  the  narrative 
of  the  Roman  leaves  a  clearer  impression  than  that  of  the  Jew.  Tacitus, 
Hist.,  v. 


350  TEE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

danger  united  them  too  late.  Sweeping  along  the  road  from 
Csesarea  appeared  a  band  of  six  hundred  Roman  cavalry,  the 
first  squadron  of  an  army  of  eighty  thousand  veterans,  and  at 
their  head  rode  Titus,  the  young  heir  of  the  empire  of  the 
world.  At  the  sight,  John  and  Simon,  conscious  of  their  own 
madness,  forgot  their  enmity  and  entered  into  a  compact  of 
mutual  aid.  Cruel,  wicked,  remorseless,  these  savage  chief- 
tains were  still  patriots,  and  began  now  with  heroic  courage  to 
provide  for  the  defense  of  Jerusalem.  John  had  nine  thou- 
sand men  in  the  Temple:  Simon,  fifteen  thousand  on  Zion 
Hill.  As  Titus  rode  carelessly  along  at  tlie  head  of  his  cav- 
alry a  sudden  sally  was  made,  and  the  Roman  commander  es- 
caped with  difiiculty  from  the  fury  of  the  Jews. 

Jerusalem  was  renowned  as  the  strongest  of  ancient  cities. (') 
Two  impassable  valleys  nearly  surrounded  the  hill  of  Zion 
and  Mount  Moriah ;  on  the  north  a  triple  wall  and  the  Castle 
of  Antonia  seemed  to  provide  an  easy  means  of  defense.  The 
city  was  filled  with  munitions  of  war,  and  food  was  at  first 
abundant.  The  Jews,  in  their  last  struggle,  showed  all  the 
chivalry  of  the  Semitic  race;  they  fought  with  unrivaled 
courage;  they  suffered  with  unconquerable  patience;  priests, 
warriors,  people,  showed  their  proud  contempt  of  death,  their 
unchanging  devotion  to  their  country,  their  faith  in  the  ritual 
and  the  law.  They  fell  by  thousands  in  fierce  sallies,  often 
successful ;  they  inflicted  terrible  losses  on  the  foe ;  they  were 
always  happy  in  death  Avhen  their  enemy  died  with  them. 
Yet  Titus,  with  his  well-trained  legions,  made  constant  prog- 
ress. He  soon  broke  down  the  outer  walls,  and  burned  or 
pillaged  all  the  lower  portion  of  the  city.  Often  the  learned 
Josephus  was  sent  to  address  his  countrymen  from  the  Roman 
works,  offering  them  pardon  and  life  if  tliey  would  surrender; 
always  the  suffering  garrison  refused  to  listen  to  the  traitor. 
They  shot  at  him  with  their  arrows.  At  last  an  enemy  ap- 
peared within  the  city  more  dreadful  than  the  Romans.  Ti- 
tus had  raised  around  Jerusalem  a  long  wall  that  shut  out  all 

(^)  Tacitus,  v.,  11 :  "Sed  urbem,  ardiiara  situ,  opera  molesque  fiimave- 
ruut." 


THE  HOLY  OF  HOLIES.  351 

exterior  aid,  and  famine  raged  in  the  homes  of  the  rich  and 
the  poor.(')  The  summer  of  the  year  TO  passed  in  horror  over 
the  ruined  city.  As  the  hot  sun  beat  on  its  pestilential  streets, 
as  vegetation  withered,  and  only  the  gray  and  dusty  olive  lived 
in  the  torrid  heat,  men,  women,  children  died  in  their  stately 
houses ;  and  robbers,  fierce  and  starving,  snatched  the  last  loaf 
from  the  hearth  of  the  poor.  The  woes  of  Jerusalem  seemed 
to  Josephus  to  have  surpassed  those  of  every  other  city ;  the 
terrors  of  the  siege  awoke  a  thrill  of  pity  in  his  vain  and  self- 
ish breast.  Yet  happier,  perhaps,  the  Jews  who  died  with 
simple  faith  for  their  God  and  their  country,  than  the  stately 
historian,  the  friend  of  an  emperor,  who  wrote  in  a  Eoman 
palace(')  an  unsympathizing  narrative  of  their  woes. 

Then  came  that  saddest  of  all  their  sorrows,  which  has  never 
yet  faded  from  the  memory  of  the  Jews.  In  the  absence  of 
all  grosser  forms  of  idolatry,  the  chosen  people  had  learned 
to  look  upon  their  Temple,  its  pyramid  of  terraces,  its  golden 
gates,  its  glittering  shrine,  almost  as  the  heathen  looked  upon 
his  brazen  gods.  It  was  their  idol  and  the  centre  of  their 
hopes.  The  Temple  of  the  Most  High(')  had  been  sung  in 
immortal  lyrics  by  their  regal  poet ;  the  sanctity  of  the  courts 
of  the  Lord,  the  future  splendors  of  the  Holy  House,  had  been 
the  theme  of  his  pei'petual  meditation.  The  nation  was  filled 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  its  inspired  bard.  In  all  his  wander- 
ings at  Alexandria,  Athens,  or  Rome  the  impassioned  Jew 
ever  kept  in  his  memory  the  glory  of  his  native  shrine,  and 
hastened  with  devout  enthusiasm  to  the  paschal  feast.  To 
him  the  Temple  was  the  light  of  the  world,  the  Ziou  of  his 
weary  soul.Q  In  the  season  of  fniit,  the  month  of  Ab,  the 
irreparable  woe  fell  upon  the  children  of  Israel.  Titus  had 
pressed  on  his  slow  approaches  all  through  the  summer.     He 

(^)  See  Jost,  Allgemeiue  Gesclilchte  dcs  Israelitisclien  Volkes,  ii.,  p.  99. 

C)  Josoplius  probably  composed  his  dull  speeches  long  after  the  event 
iu  his  spleudid  residence  at  Rome. 

C)  David's  solicitude  for  the  building  of  the  Temple  is  told  by  Josephus, 
Aut. 

C)  Jost,  Allgemeiue  Gesch.  des  Israel.  Volkes  :  "  Der  hochgefeierte  Sitz — 
von  vieleu  Fremdeu  bewundert,  geehrt,  bereichert,"  etc.,  ii.,  p.  100. 


352  THE  CRUECR  OF  JEBUSALEM. 

heard  with  no  compunction  of  the  horrors  within  the  city, 
lie  was  told  that  Mary,  the  wealthy  matron,  had  cooked  and 
perhaps  dev^  oiired  her  own  infant ;  he  appealed  to  God  that  he 
was  innocent  of  the  dreadful  deed.  His  engineers  made  their 
way  into  the  Castle  of  Antonia :  he  prepared  to  storm  the  Tem- 
ple. He  knew  that  around  it  centred  the  fanaticism  of  the 
Jews,  and  he  gave  orders  for  its  destructiou.(*)  A  general  as- 
sault was  made.  John  of  Giscala,  the  patriots,  and  the  priests, 
fouslit  with  terrible  resolution  in  its  defense.  The  skillful 
Romans,  under  the  eye  of  Titus,  forced  their  way  into  the  sa- 
cred courts ;  they  climbed  terrace  after  terrace,  where  the  pave- 
ments were  thickly  strewed  with  the  dying  and  the  dead ;  a 
soldier  threw  a  blazing  torch  into  an  open  window  of  the  Holy 
House ;  the  priceless  veils,  the  cedar  beams,  the  gilded  orna- 
ments, blazed  forth  in  a  wild  conflagration ;  the  priests  killed 
themselves  before  the  altar;  and  the  Temple  of  the  Most 
High  was  consumed  to  ashes.  A  wail  broke  from  the  hapless 
Jews  more  sad  than  any  their  own  sorrows  had  ever  occasioned. 
It  was  repeated  in  desolate  Galilee  and  wild  Judaea ;  in  the 
distant  synagogues  of  Alexandria  and  Eome.  It  has  never 
ceased  :  it  still  breaks  forth  from  every  Jewish  heart ;  and  the 
most  touching  spectacle  of  modern  Jerusalem  is  that  of  the 
cowering  Israelites,  amidst  the  brutality  of  Turkish  soldiers 
and  the  mockeries  of  Armenian  boys,  wailing  over  the  crum- 
bling foundations  of  what  was  once  the  most  hallowed  of 
earthly  shrines. 

Titus  hastened  on  the  labors  of  destruction.  Mount  Mo- 
riah  was  already  a  scene  of  ruin  and  death.  Next  the  Roman 
engines  shattered  the  walls  of  Mount  Zion,  and  the  palaces  and 
line  mansions  of  the  hill  of  David  were  given  to  the  flames.(') 
No  more  w^ere  peace  and  prosperity  to  reign  within  her  walls ; 
never  again  was  the  holy  hill  to  rejoice  in  the  consciousness 
of  her  freedom.     The  most  dreadful  cruelties  were  inflicted 


(')  The  Talmuds  say  that  Titus  gave  orders  to  burn  the  Temple,  De- 
reubourg,  i.,  p.  289,  and  refute  the  accouut  of  Josephus,  that  he  wished  to 


save  it. 

(■)  Josephus,  vi.,  p.  8 


TITUS  THE  DESTROYER.  353 

by  Titus  and  his  remorseless  legions ;  the  Jews  were  slaugh- 
tered like  some  hated  reptile,  and  the  Gentiles  repaid  the  iso- 
lated pride  of  Israel  by  one  of  the  most  brutal  massacres  that 
mark  the  annals  of  war.  One  million  Jews,  it  is  stated,  per- 
ished in  the  siege  of  the  city — a  number  that  can  not  bear  a 
careful  criticism.  But  still  worse  than  death  was  the  fate 
of  the  living.  Ninety-seven  thousand  prisoners  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Titus.Q  Of  these  some  were  cultivated  and  accom- 
plished priests,  some  pure  and  spotless  patriots,  some  indus- 
trious artisans,  some  fair  and  virtuous  women,  some  robbers 
and  miscreants,  deformed  with  crime.  Their  fate  was  the 
same.  Many  were  sent  to  labor  in  the  mines  of  Upper  Egypt ; 
many  were  forced  to  fight  with  wild  beasts  in  the  amphi- 
theatres of  the  two  Csesareas ;  one  of  the  fairest  and  noblest 
women  of  Jerusalem  was  seen,  in  her  hunger,  struggling  to 
gather  the  grains  of  corn  that  fell  beneath  the  horses'  feet  of 
the  Roman  soldiers ;  another  was  fastened  by  her  hair  to  a 
horse's  tail,  and  dragged,  in  that  condition,  from  Jerusalem  to 
Lydda.(^)  The  needless  barbarities  of  Titus  are  pei-petuated 
in  the  Talmuds. 

Yet  Titus,  the  destroyer  of  Jerusalem,  has  been  painted  by 
his  countrymen  and  by  Josephus  as  the  mildest  and  the  purest 
of  men.  He  was  called  the  love,  the  delight,  of  the  human 
race.Q  He  was  almost  a  Christian  in  benevolence,  almost  a 
philosopher  in  self-control.  But  history  has  at  length  re-as- 
serted its  verity,  and  Titus  stands  before  us  one  of  those  half- 
savage  monsters  who  revel  in  bloodshed  and  crime,  and  have 
yet  moments  of  transitory  penitence.  His  early  youth  was 
corrupt  and  shameless ;  his  later  life  showed  little  change ; 
he  was  the  chief  instrument  in  the  horrible  massacres  of  Je- 
rusalem; he  was  merciful  or  pure  only  in  contrast  with  a 
Caligula  or  a  IS'ero.  Xor  is  it  wonderful  that  the  Talmuds 
paint  with  unusual  bitterness  the  cruel  malignity  of  the  con- 
queror of  Jerusalem,  and  that  the  Jewish  writers  have  never 

(')  Jost,  All.  Ges.  Is.,  ii.,  p.  100 :  "  Uud  97,000  (was  wolil  glaublich)  zu 
Gefangcnen  gemacht  worden." 

C)  Dereobourg,  i.,  p.  290-293.  (')  Suetonius,  Flavius,  i. 

23 


354  THE  CHUECn  OF  JERUSALEM. 

ceased  to  denounce  as  false  and  traitorous  the  pleasing  portrait 
of  Titus  left  by  the  unpatriotic  Josephus.(') 

Over  the  smoking  ruins  of  Jerusalem  the  Roman  soldiers 
passed  more  than  once,  destroying  what  remained  of  its  for- 
mer splendor.  It  is  probable  that  few  houses  were  left  stand- 
ing. Only  two  or  three  towers,  it  is  said,  were  preserved. 
Tha  day  of  wrath,  foretold  by  the  Master,  had  fallen  upon 
Zion.  If  the  Christians  had  retained  the  sentiment  of  venge- 
ance, they  might  have  exulted  in  the  fate  of  their  persecu- 
tors. The  haughty  priests,  who  had  pursued  Paul  with  per- 
severing malignity,  had  died  by  the  assassin's  hand  or  in  the 
amphitheatre  of  Ctesarea.  The  Sadducees,  the  murderers  of 
James  the  Just,  were  robljed  of  their  vast  possessions,  and  had 
fallen  by  famine  or  the  sword.  Of  all  the  great  throng  that  a 
few  years  before  had  assailed  the  venerable  Paul  in  the  Tern- 
pie  courts,  or- rejoiced  in  the  torture  of  James,  only  a  few 
wretched  fugitives  remained.  But  the  Christian  Church,  still 
in  its  apostolic  purity,  felt  only  a  tender  sympathy  for  the 
general  woe.  It  is  not  possible  that  every  Christian  could 
have  made  a  timely  escape  from  the  city ;  it  is  not  unlikely 
that  many  of  the  faithful  perished  in  its  dreadful  doom.  The 
Church  wept  over  the  fate  of  its  less  fortunate  members,  over 
the  woes  of  its  country,  the  desolation  of  Judsea.  When  the 
storm  had  passed  away  a  solemn  congregation  was  held  of  all 
the  faithful.  The  apostles  that  still  survived,  the  disciples, 
and  nearly  all  the  members  of  the  family  of  the  Lord,  assem- 
bled to  elect  an  elder  in  the  place  of  James  the  Just.  Sim- 
eon, the  cousin,  perhaps  the  brother,  of  Christ,  was  chosen  by 
a  unanimous  vote.f )  The  Church  of  Jerusalem  still  survived 
in  poverty,  humility,  persecution  ;  and  when  the  fugitive  Jews 
once  more  ventured  to  return  to  their  ruined  city,  the  Chris- 
tians probably  followed  them.  Once  more  the  hill  of  Zion 
may  have  resounded  with  songs  of  praise,  and  Christian  and 


(')  Dereubonrg,  i.,  p.  289.  The  learuiug  ami  accuracy  of  this  writer 
promise  extensive  progress  iu  Jewish  history.  The  story  of  the  Hebrews 
has  not  yet  found  its  snccessful  narrator. 

(-)  Eusebius,  H.  E.,  iii.,  11. 


SIMEON  RULES  THE  CHUECH.  355 

Jew  have  wept  together  over  the  desolation  of  Mount  Mo- 
riah. 

Simeon,  whether  at  Pella  or  in  Jerusalem,  ruled  over  the 
Church  for  thirty  years.(')  It  is  the  most  obscure,  it  was  no 
doubt  the  most  active,  period  after  the  fall  of  the  city.  The 
surviving  apostles  had  wandered  away  on  their  various  mis- 
sions ;  Andrew  was  piercing  the  wilds  of  Scythia ;  Tliomas 
penetrating  the  Indian  shores.  The  daughters  of  Philip 
prophesied  at  Ilierapolis,  and  the  sons  and  daughters  of  St. 
Peter  were  emulating  the  virtues  of  their  father.^^)  St.  John 
was  at  Ephesus  or  in  exile,  and  his  inspired  visions  began  to 
be  read  in  the  churches.  All  over  the  world  we  can  trace  the 
career  of  the  undistinguished  Christians  by  the  swift  decline 
of  the  imperial  faith,  the  violence  of  the  persecutions,  the 
countless  tales  of  martyrdom. (')  In  no  later  period  of  histo- 
ry has  so  vigorous  a  tendency  toward  reform  been  witnessed 
among  mankind.  From  the  Church  at  Jerusalem  flowed  over 
the  world  a  wave  of  purity.  The  gifted  missionaries,  succes- 
sors of  the  apostles,  but  clad  in  poverty  and  humility,  preached 
in  every  city  and  village  a  spiritual  refinement,  an  ideal  virtue. 
"  Be  honest,  be  virtuous,"(')  they  cried,  with  the  pastor  of  Her- 
mas.  "  Be  simple  and  guileless,  and  speak  no  evil."  "With 
Clement  of  Rome,  they  professed  a  saintly  humility  ;(^)  the 
way  of  the  world  was  to  them,  as  to  Barnabas,  a  way  of 
darkness,  leading  to  arrogance  and  hypocrisy,  sensuality  and 
crime.(°) 

The  gentle  voice  from  fallen  Jerusalem  touched  the  heart 
of  nations.  City  after  city  fell  captive  to  its  spell.  Anti- 
och  and  Ephesus,  Alexandria  and  Rome,  learned  to  look  to  the 
ruined  capital,  once  so  hated  and  contemned,  as  the  only  source 
of  hope  and  joy.     During  the  first  century  after  the  destruc- 

(')  Eusebina,  H.  E.,  iii.,  32.  ('•')  Id.,  iii.,  30. 

(')  The  Pastor  of  Hernias,  the  Pilgrim's  Progress  of  the  secouil  century, 
throws  light  on  the  purity  of  the  Church.  See  Migne,  Pat.  Graec,  ii.,  p. 
910.     The  first  command  enforces  the  unity  of  God. 

{*)  Migne,  Pat.  Grajc,  ii.,  p.  922.  ■ 

(^)  First  Epistle  of  Clement,  c.  xvii. 

(")  See  Epistle  of  Barnabas,  c.  xx. 


356  TEE  CHURCH  OF  JERUSALEM. 

tion  of  its  early  seat  the  Chiircli  of  Jerusalem  spread  over  the 
world,  and  retained,  in  all  its  purity,  the  apostolic  spirit  of  its 
founders.  It  was  the  light  of  the  decaying  age.  The  apostol- 
ic choir,  says  Ilegesippus,  overshadowed  it  with  their  grace.(') 
Then  came  a  period  of  decline.  Paganism  mingled  with  the 
simple  ritual  of  the  Church  its  coarse  and  formal  observances. 
The  swinging  censers,  the  processions  of  gay-robed  priests,  the 
peal  of  barbaric  music,  supplied  the  place  of  the  hymns  and 
prayers  of  the  Church  of  Paul  and  James  the  Just.  Images, 
once  the  abhorrence  of  all  believers,  were  first  tolerated,  then 
adored.  The  saints  and  the  gentle  Mary  were  made  to  fill 
the  place  of  the  Penates  or  Artemis.  Presbyters  were  con- 
verted into  bishops ;  the  rival  sees  contended  for  the  suprem- 
acy; the  Bishop  of  Rome  became  the  ruler  of  the  Western 
world.  A  tyrannical  formalism,  the  image  of  that  against 
which  Paul  had  contended  at  Kome,  and  Stephen  at  Jerusa- 
lem, ruled  over  Christendom ;  the  Roman  Church  began  a  per- 
petual persecution,  more  terrible,  because  more  lasting,  than 
that  of  Nero  or  Domitian ;  the  Church  of  Jerusalem  seemed 
to  live  only  amidst  the  humble  and  the  poor,  and  in  the  dying 
visions  of  some  inspired  martyr — a  Jerome  or  a  Huss. 

When  the  city  had  sunk  to  ashes,  and  Mount  Moriah  rose, 
discrowned  and  desolate,  an  image  of  the  broken  law,  the  gen- 
tle saint  in  Patmos  had  painted  a  new  Jerusalem  in  the  skies. 
A  fairer  temple  arose  not  made  with  hands ;  a  golden  city 
shone  above,  where,  at  the  perpetual  paschal  feast,  the  countless 
generations  of  the  hallowed  dead  gathered  in  its  spiritual 
courts.  There  the  fancy  of  St.  John  lavished  all  its  wealth  ; 
there  the  streets  of  the  Holy  City  were  paved  with  gold,  and 
all  its  bulwarks  glittered  with  precious  stones ;  there  met  that 
sacred  company  with  whom  he  had  loved  to  mingle  on  earth  ; 
there  a  perpetual  peace  filled  the  walls  of  Zion ;  there  the  veil 
was  withdrawn  from  the  Holy  of  Holies ;  and  the  redeemed 
dwelt  in  the  presence  of  the  Most  High.  Amidst  the  cor- 
ruptions of  later  ages,  the  degradation  of  the  faith,  the  Church 
of  Jerusalem  seemed  only  a  vision  of  the  past. 

(>)Eusebius,H.E.,iii.,32. 


THE  PASTOR   OF  HERMAS.  357 

Then  once  more  the  ideal  beauty  of  the  early  Church  dawn- 
ed upon  mankind.  That  graceful  virgin,  spotless  and  refined, 
who  had  shone  in  the  Pastor  of  Hermas,  and  gladdened  the 
fancy  of  St.  John,  broke  from  the  spells  of  the  enchanters,  and 
put  to  flight  the  rabble  rout  of  Comus.  Dissolute  churchmen 
and  barbarous  priests  strove  in  vain  to  bind  anew  their  cap- 
tive ;  tlie  Church  was  free.  The  successors  of  Paul  and  James, 
hidden  for  so  many  ages  among  the  Yaudois,  or  the  Walden- 
ses,  the  Lollards,  the  Paulicians,  came  forth  at  the  call  of  Wyc- 
lifie,  Huss,  and  Luther.  The  Church  of  Jerusalem,  simjDle, 
lowly,  pm-e,  became  once  more  the  centre  of  a  wide  reform ; 
the  Church  of  Eome  retreated  step  by  step,  imtil  at  last  it 
cowers,  fallen  but  not  repentant,  beneath  the  pagan  magnifi- 
cence of  St.  Peter's. 


DOMINIC  AND  TEE  INQUISITION 

Of  Dominic  of  Guzman  we  are  told,  upon  the  unerring  au- 
thority of  InfallibiHty,  that  his  life  was  surrounded  by  a  cloud 
of  miracles :  that  at  the  sound  of  his  inspired  voice  the  dead 
arose  and  walked,  the  sick  were  healed,  the  heretics  converted ; 
that  often  in  his  moments  of  ecstasy  he  floated  in  the  air  be- 
fore the  eyes  of  his  disciples;  that  the  fiercest  flames  refused 
to  consume  the  parchment  ui^on  which  were  written  his  di- 
vine meditations ;(')  and  that,  in  the  midst  of  the  carnage  his 
eloquence  excited,  the  saint  ever  remained  the  gentlest  and 
meekest  of  his  race.  Once,  as  Dominic  stood  in  the  midst  of 
a  pious  company  in  the  Convent  of  St.  Sixtus,  conversing  with 
the  Cardinal  Stephen,  a  messenger,  bathed  in  tears,  came  in  to 
announce  that  the  Lord  Napoleon,  the  nephew  of  Stephen, 
had  been  thrown  from  his  horse,  and  lay  dead  at  the  con- 
vent gate.  The  cardinal,  weighed  down  by  grief,  fell  weep- 
ing upon  the  breast  of  the  saint.  Dominic,  full  of  compas- 
sion, ordered  the  body  of  the  young  man  to  be  brought  in, 
and  prepared  to  exercise  his  miraculous  powers.  He  directed 
the  altar  to  be  arranged  for  celebrating  mass ;  he  fell  into  a 
sudden  ecstasy,  and,  as  his  hands  touched  the  sacred  elements, 
he  rose  in  the  air  and  hung,  kneeling,  in  empty  space  above 
the  astonished  worshipers.  Descending,  he  made  the  sign  of 
the  cross  upon  the  dead ;  he  commanded  the  young  man  to 
arise,  and  at  once  the  Lord  Napoleon  sprung  up  alive  and  in 
perfect  health,  in  the  presence  of  a  host  of  witnesses.^ ) 

Such  are  the  wonders  gravely  related   of   Dominic,  the 

(')  Vaulx-Cernay,  cap.  vii.  A  contemporary  account  of  the  Albigeusian 
■war  relates  the  famous  miracle. 

(^)  Butler,  Lives  of  the  Saints,  viii.,  j)-  G2. 


THE  INQUISITION.  359 

founder  of  the  Inquisition  ;  yet,  if  we  may  trust  the  tradi- 
tion, the  real  achievements  of  his  seared  and  clouded  intel- 
lect far  excel  in  their  magnificent  atrocity  even  the  wildest  le- 
gends of  the  saints.  He  invented  or  he  enlarged  that  grand 
machinery  by  which  the  conscience  of  mankind  was  held  in 
bondage  for  centuries ;  whose  relentless  grasp  was  firmly  fast- 
ened upon  the  decaying  races  of  Southern  Europe,  the  con- 
verts of  Hindostan,  and  the  conquerors  of  Mexico  and  Peru ; 
whose  gloomy  palaces  and  dungeons  sprung  up  in  almost  ev- 
ery Catholic  city  of  the  South,  and  formed  for  ages  the  chief 
bulwarks  of  the  aggressive  career  of  Home.  The  Holy  Of- 
fice, from  the  time  of  Dominic,  became  the  favorite  instru- 
ment for  the  propagation  of  the  faith;  it  followed  swiftly 
the  path  of  the  missionary,  and  was  established  wherever  the 
worship  of  Mary  extended,  whether  in  Lima,  Goa,  or  Japan ; 
it  devoured  the  Netherlands,  silenced  Italy  and  Spain,  and  its 
hallowed  labors  and  its  happy  influences  are  still  celebrated 
and  lamented  by  all  those  pious  but  diseased  intellects  who 
advocate  the  use  of  force  in  creating  unity  of  religious  belief. 
Its  memory  is  still  dear  to  every  adherent  of  infallibility ;  nor 
can  any  one  of  that  grave  assembly  of  bishops  who  so  lately 
sat  in  St.  Peter's  venture  to  avow,  without  danger  of  heresy, 
that  he  doubts  the  divine  origin  of  the  institutions  of  Dom- 
inic. 

Nothing,  indeed,  can  be  more  impressive  than  tliat  tender 
regret  with  which  the  Italian  prelates  lament  over  the  fall  of 
the  venerable  tribunal.  Modern  civilization  has  inflicted  no 
deeper  wound ;  modern  governments  have  never  more  gross- 
ly invaded  the  rights  of  the  infallible  Churcli.(')  One  of  the 
means,  the  bishops  exclaim,  which  the  Church  employs  for  the 
eternal  safety  of  those  who  have  the  good  fortune  to  belong 
to  her  is  the  Holy  Inquisition  ;  it  cuts  off  the  heretic,  it  pre- 
serves the  faithful  from  the  contagion  of  error ;  its  charitable 


(')  Laurent,  Le  Catliolicisme  et  tie  I'Avenir,  gives  the  lament  of  the  Ital- 
ian bishops :  "  Un  des  moyeus  que  I'figlise  emploie  pour  procurer  le  saint 
^ternel  de  ceux  qui  out  le  bonheur  de  lui  appartenir  est  le  tribunal  de  la 
sainte  Inqumtion,"  p.  575. 


o 


60  DOMINIC  AND   THE  INQUISITION. 


solicitude,  its  exhortations  and  its  teachings,  its  venerable  pro- 
cedure, its  necessary  and  remedial  punishments,  have  won  the 
admiration  of  generations  of  devoted  Catholics.  It  has  been 
hallowed  by  the  approval  of  a  series  of  infallible  popes ;  it  is 
consecrated  by  the  voice  of  Heaven.  For  a  time  it  may  be 
snppressed  by  the  action  of  hostile  governments,  by  the  cor- 
rupt influence  of  modern  civilization.  But  the  Church  has 
never  for  a  moment  abandoned  its  most  effective  instrument ; 
and  in  some  happier  hour,  when  the  claims  of  St.  Peter  are 
acknowledged  in  every  land,  his  infallible  successor  will  es- 
tablish anew  the  charitable  solicitude  and  the  remedial  pains 
of  the  Holy  Office  in  Europe  and  America,  and  the  civilized 
world  shall  sit  once  more,  humbled  and  repentant,  at  the  feet 
of  Dominic  and  his  holy  Inqnisitors.Q 

The  saint  was  born  of  a  noble  family  in  the  kingdom  of 
Castile,  and  from  early  youth  practiced  a  rigorous  asceticism 
that  prepared  him  for  his  supernatnral  mission.  He  slept  on 
the  bare  floor  instead  of  a  bed ;  his  frame  was  emaciated  by 
abstinence ;  he  passed  days  and  nights  praying  before  the  al- 
tar, and  the  holy  place  was  often  wet  with  his  tears.(^)  Yet 
Dominic  had  been  a  diligent  student  of  rhetoric  and  philoso- 
phy at  the  University  of  Salamanca,  and  soon  his  fervid  elo- 
quence, set  off  by  his  wasted  figure,  his  haggard  countenance, 
and  flashing  eyes,  awoke  the  attention  of  his  age.  A  dreadful 
heresy  had  sprung  up  in  Italy  and  France ;  and  while  Coeur 
de  Lion  and  Philip  Augustus  were  fighting  the  battles  of  the 
Church  on  the  burning  sands  of  Syria,  the  joyous  Provengals 
sung  their  pagan  melodies  at  the  courts  of  love,  and  Toulouse 
and  Montpellier  rang  with  sharp  diatribes  on  tlie  vices  of  the 
priests  or  tlie  cruel  ambition  of  the  Court  of  Rome.  In  the 
year  1200  heresy  threatened  the  downfall  of  the  Church.Q 
The  people  seemed  resolved  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  the  Ital- 


(')  Laurent,  p.  577:  "lis  [the  Cburcb]  rt^poudraient  (rune  voix  unanime, 
que  les  charituhles  soUicitudes  t-t  toutm  les  procedures  du  tribunal  de  la  salute 
Inquisition  ne  tendent  par  elles-meuies  qu'au  plus  grand  bien,"  etc.  "Les 
avertissoments,  les  peines  uiediciuales,"  are  highly  extolled  by  the  bishops. 

(°)  Butler,  Lives  of  the  Saints,  a  narrative  accei)ted  by  infallibility. 

(')  Kaynouard,  Monumeus,  etc.,  vol.  ii.,  p,  51. 


HERESY  IN  FEAXCE.  3G1 

ian  antichrist.  In  many  cities  the  priests  were  driven  from 
the  altars,  the  churclies  abandoned  by  tlie  worshiper,  and  a 
simple  ritual,  borrowed  from  the  Vaudois  valleys,  was  swiftly 
supplanting  the  pompous  ceremonial  of  Rome. 

To  the  gay  and  thoughtless  heretics  of  the  South  of  France 
Dominic  opposed  his  fervid  oratory,  his  sordid  poverty  and 
austere  penances,  his  fanatical  violence,  and  the  iron  hand  of 
persecution.  He  believed  himself  destined  to  revive  the  de- 
caying fortunes  of  the  Church ;  and  he  founded  a  new  order 
of  preaching  friars,  that  multiplied  under  his  care  with  singu- 
lar rapidity,  and  spread  into  every  land.  Clad  in  black  cape 
and  cloak,  austere  and  fanatical,  yet  often  possessed  of  rare  elo- 
quence and  attainments,  the  Dominican  missionaries  wandered 
over  Europe,  and  preached  anew  the  supremacy  of  the  Pope. 
The  aspirations  of  the  saint  seemed  miraculously  fulfilled. 
Heresy,  discomfited  and  overborne,  hid  from  the  light  of  day. 
It  was  apparently  forever  dissipated.  The  Church  ruled  tri- 
umphant over  Europe,  and  the  popes  trod  on  the  necks  of 
haughty  kings  and  rebellious  nations.  But  the  success  of  the 
Dominicans  was  not  due  alone  to  their  eloquence  or  their 
austerity ;  to  their  care  had  been  committed  that  wonderful 
agent  of  conversion,  the  Holy  Inquisition. 

It  is  claimed  by  his  disciples  that  Dominic  was  the  first  In- 
quisitor-general, and  that  he  was  sent  forth  by  the  Pope  him- 
self to  repress  heresy  by  medicinal  pain.(')  The  Dominicans 
account  it  the  highest  glory  of  their  order  that  its  founder 
gave  rise  also  to  the  Holy  Office.  He  at  least  laid  the  founda- 
tion of  the  wonderful  structure.  The  Inquisition  was  the  in- 
heritance of  the  Dominicans  ;  their  priests  presided  at  the  sol- 
emn sacrifices  ;  their  assistants  were  the  familiars,  who  moved 
like  shadows  around  the  suspected ;  and  the  Dominican  In- 
quisitors often  lived  in  unbounded  luxury  and  license  in  the 
magnificent  "  holy  houses"  of  Lima  or  Seville.(^)     They  clung 


(')  See  Llorente,  luquisition,  i.,  p.  48. 

(^)  Sclimidt,  MOucb-  u.  Nonueu-Ordeii,  Die  Inquisition  :  "  Schon  seit  Do- 
minicns  verwaltete  der  jeclesmalige  General  des  Ordeus  als  bcsoudres  Vor- 
reclit,"  etc.     Master  of  the  papal  palace,  -p.  186. 


3G2  DOMINIC  AND   THE  INQUISITION. 

to  their  privileges  with  rare  tenacity ;  the  holy  houses  grew 
rich  from  the  spoliation  of  Jews  and  wealthy  heretics.  The 
Incjuisitor  wielded  a  power  before  which  the  great  and  noble 
trembled ;  and  of  all  ecclesiastical  prizes  none  was  more  cov- 
eted by  rising  churchmen  and  ambitious  monks  than  a  seat  at 
the  holy  tribunal.  The  vices  of  Dominic  had  been  a  brutal 
cruelty,  a  savage  intolerance ;  his  successors  enlarged  the  cata- 
logue, until  it  embraced  every  infamy  and  every  crime. 

In  the  sunny  fields  of  Languedoc,  where  nature  laughs  in 
tropical  luxuriance,  where  the  soft  waves  of  the  Mediterranean 
meet  upon  its  tranquil  shores,  where  the  skies  are  ever  bright, 
and  a  brilliant  landscape,  sown  with  stately  castles  and  gen- 
erous cities,  with  villages  the  homes  of  contented  labor,  and 
farms  glowing  with  unbounded  fertility,  tenanted  by  a  people 
the  most  refined  and  gentle  of  their  age,  arose,  about  the  be- 
ginning of  the  thirteenth  century,  the  most  fearful  instrument 
of  human  malignity.(')  It  was  in  the  home  of  the  troubadours 
and  of  early  European  civilization.  The  southern  provinces  of 
France,  in  that  dark  and  troubled  age,  shone  with  a  cultivated 
lustre  amidst  a  world  of  barbarism  and  cruelty.  Some  traits 
of  Grecian  and  Eoman  refinement  had  survived  and  borne 
fruit  in  the  classic  province  of  Aquitaine.  Marseilles  had  been 
the  seat  of  a  busy  Greek  population,  and  the  worship  of  the 
Ephesian  Artemis  and  the  gay  festivals  of  the  Ionian  faith 
were  not  wholly  forgotten  by  the  descendants  of  the  tasteful 
Greeks.  They  delighted  in  music  and  the  dance,  in  proces- 
sions and  cheerful  sports,  and  it  was  noticed  with  horror  by 
the  rigid  monks  that  the  Provengals  even  enlivened  the  gloom 
of  the  cemetery  by  chanting  gay  songs  around  the  grave. 
Toulouse  had  preserved  the  classic  form  of  government,  and 
its  chief  officers  were  still  called  consuls,  and  its  people  still 
retained  the  memory  of  their  civic  freedom. 

England,  Germany,  and  France  lingered  in  barbarous  indo- 
lence, while  the  gifted  Provengals  had  filled  their  happy  land 


(')  Fauriel,  Provengal  Lit.,  and  Raynouard,  Monnraens  de  la  Lan.  Eo- 
inane,  paint  the  manners  of  Provence.  See  Lavall6e,  Hist,  des  Inquisit. 
Eelig.,  i.,  p.  1. 


THE  ALBIGENSES.  363 

with  the  fruits  of  industry,  and  had  cultivated  a  literature  of 
song  and  romance  that  was  destined  to  give  rise  to  the  genius 
of  Dante  and  Petrarch,  and  was  perhaps  imitated  in  the  sagas 
of  the  Northern  skalds.(')  But  the  most  remarkable  trait  of 
this  gifted  people  was  their  vigorous  Protestantism.^  In  the 
twelfth  century  the  Albigenses  ruled  in  Provence.  A  pure 
religion,  the  result,  perhaps,  of  the  teachings  of  the  Vaudois 
missionaries,  and  of  the  example  of  Waldo  of  Lyons,  grew  up 
in  Montpellier  and  Toulouse.  It  taught  that  Pome  was  An- 
tichrist, forbade  the  worship  of  Mary  and  the  saints,  scoffed  at 
the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation,  and  proclaimed  a  univers- 
al toleration.  Even  the  hated  Jews,  persecuted  in  all  other 
lands,  were  received  with  signal  favor  in  the  industrious  cities 
of  the  South.  A  swarm  of  heretics  of  every  shade  of  faith 
lived  peacefully  together  under  the  mild  rule  of  the  Counts 
of  Toulouse.  The  doctrines  of  the  Albigenses  spread  rapidly 
over  Europe.  Germany,  England,  France,  and  Spain  are  said 
to  have  abounded  with  similar  heretics,  who  scoffed  at  the  cor- 
rupt priesthood  and  defied  the  tyranny  of  Pome.  The  Bible 
was  read  in  every  land ;  and  now  began  the  first  of  those  great 
struggles  for  freedom  of  conscience  which  were  continued  by 
the  labors  of  Wycliife,  of  Huss,  of  Luther  and  Calvin,  of  the 
Huguenots  of  France  and  the  Puritans  of  England,  and  which, 
after  a  contest  of  seven  centuries,  have  ended  in  the  final  over- 
throw of  the  usurping  Church  of  Dominic  and  Innocent  HI. 

But  miserable  was  the  doom  of  the  first  of  the  European 
reformers.  In  1208  Innocent  preached  a  crusade  against  the 
Albigenses,  and  a  savage  horde  of  bishops,  princes,  dukes,  and 
nobles,  at  the  head  of  their  feudal  followers,  swept  over  the 
fair  fields  of  Provence.  Q     The  gay  and  wealthy  cities  were 

(')  Fauriel,  p.  20,  notices  the  wide  iuflueuce  of  Provencal  literature  and 
opinions.  Careful  research  will  probably  show  that  the  people  were  ev- 
erywhere rebels  against  Rome. 

(^)  "  Les  pretres  se  scut  faits  les  inquisiteurs  de  nos  actions,"  sung  an 
Albigeusian  bard  ;  but  he  complaiued  only  of  their  caprice.  Eayuouard, 
ii.,  p.  52.  O  Rome  !  "  telle  est  la  grandeur  de  votre  crime  que  vous  mdprisez 
et  Dieu  et  les  saints,"  they  cried,  p.  G3. 

(^)  Vaulx-Cernay,  cap.  vii.,  p.  37  :  "  Sus  done  soldats  du  Christ !  sus  done 
novices  intr6pides !"  cried  the  Pojie. 


3Gi  DOMIXIC  AXD   THE  INQUISITION. 

plundered  and  laid  waste  by  the  papal  persecutors;  a  large 
part  of  the  population  perished  by  famine  or  the  sword ;  the 
traces  of  classic  civilization  sunk  before  the  barbarians  of  the 
North  ;  the  troubadours  vanished  from  the  earth  ;  and  a  dread- 
ful gloom  of  barbarism  and  decay  settled  upon  the  South  of 
France.  Toulouse,  the  home  of  the  first  reformation,  became 
renowned  for  its  intolerant  bigotry ;  the  industry  and  the  en- 
ergy of  the  people  of  Provence  died  with  their  freedom ;  and 
amidst  the  blood-stained  ruins  of  the  classic  land,  Dominic,  or 
his  successors,  invented  and  built  up  the  Holy  Inquisition. (') 
It  was  designed  to  pursue  the  Albigenses  into  their  most  secret 
retreats ;  to  penetrate  into  the  family  circle ;  to  plant  spies  in 
their  daily  path ;  to  catch  the  incautious  utterance,  detect  the 
hidden  discontent ;  to  throw  so  complete  and  careful  a  chain 
around  the  intellect  that  even  the  idea  of  heresy  should  be 
banished  from  every  mind.  The  fierce  Dominicans  patrolled 
the  ruined  cities,  eager  for  their  prey. 

Wherever  they  appeared  they  were  received  with  disgust 
and  horror;  wherever  they  passed  they  left  behind  them  a 
track  of  desolation.  The  gentle  Albigenses,  unacquainted 
with  religious  persecution,  accustomed  only  to  deeds  of  tender- 
ness and  mercy,  saw  with  amazement  and  terror  the  pious  and 
the  good  racked  by  fatal  tortures,  and  burned  alive  in  their  na- 
tive cities,  the  victims  of  the  Moloch  of  Kome.(')  At  Albi, 
from  whence  the  reformers  had  probably  received  their  name, 
as  the  white-robed  Inquisitors  passed  through  its  streets,  ev- 
ery door  was  closed  and  barred,  the  affrighted  people  hid, 
with  their  trembling  families,  from  the  face  of  day ;  a  solemn 
gloom  settled  upon  the  once  happy  town.  But  no  sentiment 
of  remorse,  no  thought  of  the  popular  detestation,  delayed  the 
fierce  Dominicans.  They  dragged  the  heretics  from  their  se- 
cret retreats ;  they  called  upon  friend  to  betray  friend,  neigh- 
bor to  denounce  neighbor ;  and  a  universal  suspicion  destroyed 


(')  See  Chronique  de  Gnillaumc  do  Pny-Laureus.  lu  Guizot,  vol.  xv.,p. 
293,  "  L'iuquisitiou  comuieuf  a  pen  a  pen  a  atteiudre,"  etc. 

(-)  Vaulx-Ceruay  throws  the  guilt  of  the  war  ou  the  harmless  reformers. 
Guillaume  de  Puy-Laurens,  p.  226,  laments  that  the  Church  should  be  ex- 
posed to  the  horrible  iusults  of  the  heretics. 


ALBI  DESOLATED.  365 

the  peace  of  the  innocent  community.  At  length  a  fearful 
act  of  sacrilege  aroused  the  towns -people  to  resistance.  In 
the  horrible  code  of  persecution  which  the  followers  of  Dom- 
inic had  invented,  it  was  the  custom  to  inflict  the  vengeance 
of  the  Church  even  upon  the  dead.  They  exlmmed  the  bodies 
of  persons  suspected  of  heresy  and  burned  their  ashes.  One 
night  the  Inquisitors,  with  a  train  of  their  familiars,  aroused 
the  magistrates  of  Albi  from  their  slumber,  and  commanded 
them  to  follow  them.  The  officials  did  not  dare  to  ask  whith- 
er they  were  to  go,  but  obeyed  in  silence.  The  strange  pro- 
cession traversed  the  streets,  lighted  by  torches,  and  came  to 
the  public  cemetery.  The  town  was  aroused,  and  a  throng 
of  people  had  gathered  around  the  sacred  scene,  scarcely  con- 
scious of  the  design  of  their  persecutors.  At  the  grave  of  a 
woman  suspected  of  heresy  the  Dominicans  paused,  and  com- 
manded the  magistrates  to  disinter  the  body,  in  the  name  of 
the  Church.  They  hesitated ;  the  people  murmured ;  a  tierce 
rage  began  to  arouse  the  multitude  to  resistance.  But  when 
the  officials  refused  to  obey,  the  Dominicans  took  up  the 
spades  and  began  to  remove  the  earth  from  the  coffin.  The 
solemn  shades  of  night,  the  flickering  light  of  the  torches,  the 
fatal  act  of  sacrilege  about  to  be  perpetrated,  awoke  anew  the 
fury  of  the  people,  who  now  drove  the  Inquisitors  before  them 
from  the  cemetery  with  violence  and  blows,  and  soon  after- 
ward expelled  every  monk  and  priest  from  the  limits  of  Albi. 
Their  revolt  was  avenged  by  the  Dominicans  with  unsparing 
cruelty ;  the  city  was  excommunicated ;  and  a  swarm  of  rob- 
bers let  loose  upon  it  by  the  exasperated  Church  nearly  blot- 
ted it  from  existence. 

The  Albigenses  sunk  before  the  vindictive  rigor  of  Eome, 
and  the  Inquisition  pursued  a  career  of  triumph  throughout 
all  the  districts  infected  by  the  early  elements  of  reform.(') 
In  every  city  of  Languedoc  and  Provence  two  Dominican  In- 
quisitors presided ;  the  civil  power  enforced  their  decrees,  and 

(■)  The  chronicle  of  William  is  full  of  the  malice  of  the  heretics  and  the 
success  of  the  Church,  i).  228.  "  Satan,"  he  cries,  "  possddait  en  repos  la 
majeure  partie  de  ce  pays  comme  nn  sien  domicile." 


366  DOMIXIC  AXD   THE  IXQUISITIOX. 

every  trace  of  heresy  disappeared  from  sight.  A  reward  of  a 
mark  of  silver  was  offered  to  any  one  who  would  denounce  a 
heretic ;  every  house  that  had  sheltered  the  Albigenses  was 
razed  to  the  gi-ound ;  whoever  lent  aid  or  kindly  otHces  to  the 
persecuted  reformers  was  deprived  of  his  property,  and  per- 
haps shared  their  fate ;  every  cottage  or  lonely  cave  in  which 
the  exiles  might  find  a  refuge  was  carefully  sought  for  and 
destroyed ;  and  the  teachings  of  Dominic  and  the  zeal  of  his 
disciples  produced  a  system  of  rigid  repression  that  seemed  to 
secure  the  perfect  supremacy  of  the  Church.(') 

Gregory  IX.,  from  the  papal  throne,  speaking  the  language 
of  infallibility,  declared  it  the  duty  of  every  honest  Catholic 
to  denounce  and  destroy  the  heretics,  and  ingrafted  upon  the 
creed  of  his  usurping  sect  the  doctrine  of  universal  persecu- 
tion. The  heretic  was  henceforth  held  unfit  to  live.  He  was 
the  enemy  of  the  only  infallible  Church,  and  must  therefore 
be  treated  as  the  Jews  treated  the  Amalekites,  as  Diocletian 
had  persecuted  the  Christians  of  Syria  and  Rome.  His  crime 
involved  the  ruin  of  his  family.  His  home  was  broken  up ; 
his  children  were  driven  out  naked  and  penniless;  his  goods 
enriched  the  Holy  Inquisitors  and  the  treacherous  informer; 
and  in  every  part  of  Europe  the  papal  injunctions  were  obey- 
ed, at  least  by  kings  and  nobles,  and  countless  numbers  of  her- 
etics suffered  the  extreme  penalties  imposed  by  the  relentless 
Popes. 

When  the  new  civilization  of  Southern  Europe  in  the  thir- 
teenth century  had  been  so  perfectly  effaced  by  the  Inquisitors, 
when  the  Albigenses  no  longer  ventured  to  defend  liberty  of 
conscience  and  mental  reform,  when  the  song  of  the  trouba- 
dour was  hushed  in  its  early  home,  and  a  cloud  of  barbarous 
superstition  had  once  more  settled  over  Montpellier  or  Tou- 
louse, the  Popes  and  the  Dominicans,  encouraged  by  their 
first  success,  prepared  to  apply  the  vigorous  remedy  of  the 
Inquisition  to  the  dawning  heresies  of  every  land.(^)    It  was 

(•)  Milmaii,  Lat.  Christ.,  iv.,  p.  168. 

C)  Llorente,  Inquisition,  1.,  p.  55.  Gregory  IX.  would  treat  all  heretics 
as  unfit  to  live. 


TRE  SPANISH  INQUISITION.  367 

introduced  in  a  modified  form  into  Northern  France.  Saint 
Louis,  tlie  purest  of  his  regal  race,  was  one  of  the  bitterest  and 
most  inhuman  of  persecutors.  Pie  had  encouraged  the  mas- 
sacres of  the  harmless  Albigenses ;  he  would  have  rejoiced  to 
have  made  Paris  the  chief  seat  of  the  Dominican  tribunal.(') 
But  his  successors  were  more  merciful ;  the  Galilean  Church 
grew  jealous  of  the  power  of  the  Inquisitors,  and  no  holy 
houses,  provided  with  dungeons,  racks,  and  scourges,  were  per- 
mitted to  be  erected  in  the  cities  of  France,  The  French 
kings  preferred  to  burn  their  own  heretics  in  their  own  way. 
The  royal  prisons  were  often  filled  with  reformers ;  and  when 
the  Bastile,  the  emblem  of  mediaeval  tyranny,  was  built  in  the 
fourteenth  century,  its  first  inmate  was  Aubriot,  provost  of 
merchants,  suspected  of  heresy.  He  was  afterward  released 
from  his  horrible  confinement  by  an  insurrection  of  the  Pa- 
risians, and  escaped  from  France.  In  Germany  the  Domini- 
cans exercised  their  inquisitorial  privileges  to  some  extent,  but 
were  held  in  check  by  the  independent  spirit  of  the  princes 
and  the  people.  Italy  was  less  fortunate,  and  her  rising  in- 
tellect was  constantly  subjected  to  the  scrutiny  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion. Yet  the  principle,  if  not  the  institution,  of  the  rancorous 
saint  was  applied  in  every  land ;  and  England,  Germany,  and 
France  met  every  tendency  toward  reform  by  the  whip  and 
the  stake.  He  who  strove  to  amend  his  age,  to  teach  freedom 
of  conscience,  to  introduce  a  modern  civilization,  was  destroy- 
ed by  the  united  bigotry  of  Church  and  State. 

In  Spain  the  savage  genius  of  Dominic  gained  its  highest 
triumph.  The  Spanish  Inquisition  for  more  than  six  centuries 
has  awakened  the  wonder  and  the  horror  of  mankind.  From 
Provence  it  was  early  transferred  to  Aragon  and  Castile ;  but 
its  beginnings  were  modest,  its  influence  comparatively  slight, 
and  it  was  not  until  the  reimi  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  that 
its  fatal  tyranny  began  to  sap  the  energy  and  destroy  the 
foundations  of  Spanish  civilization.  Never,  indeed,  was  there 
a  land  more  filled  with  the  elements  of  progress,  more  capable 
of  a  generous  and  honorable  career,  than  was  Spain  in  the 

(')  Llorente,  Inquisition,  i.,  p.  Gl.     See  Rule,  Hist,  of  luq.,  a  useful  work. 


3GS  DOMINIC  AXD   TEE  IXQUISITIOX. 

tliirteenth  century.  As  the  IMoors  slowly  receded  before  the 
vigorous  revival  of  the  Gothic  race,  the  Spanish  cities  retain- 
ed much  of  the  refinement  and  grace  of  the  gifted  Saracens; 
the  countrymen  of  the  Cid  had  never  forgotten  the  generosity, 
the  honesty,  the  purity,  inculcated  in  their  national  epic,  and 
an  industrious  and  liberal  people  swarmed  over  the  banks  of 
the  Ebro  and  lined  the  fair  valleys  of  the  Guadalquivir  or  the 
Tagus.  They  were  bold,  free,  and  full  of  self-respect.  The 
brave  soldiers,  the  accomplished  artisans,  the  wealthy  mer- 
chants of  Aragon  and  Castile,  defended  their  privileges  of  free 
thought  and  free  speech  against  every  encroachment  of  the 
Church  or  the  crown.  Seville  and  Barcelona,  Valencia  and 
Cordova,  were  almost  republican  in  their  sentiment  and  their 
institutions ;  the  rights  of  labor  and  of  the  intellect  were 
respected ;  heretics,  Jews,  and  Moriscoes  lived  unharmed  to- 
gether in  many  of  the  cities,  and  liberty  of  conscience  was  in 
part  secured  by  the  familiarity  of  the  people  with  various 
creeds.  No  cloud  seemed  to  rest  upon  the  fair  promise  of 
Spain,  when  the  teachings  of  the  Popes  and  the  rancor  of 
Dominic  fell  suddenly  like  a  thunder-bolt  upon  the  sources  of 
its  prosperity. 

The  Jews  were  the  wealthiest,  the  most  active,  and  perhaps 
the  most  deserving  of  its  population.  Tempted  by  the  soft 
climate,  the  productive  soil,  and  the  comparative  liberality 
of  the  Spanish  Government,  the  olive-colored  children  of  the 
East  had  settled  in  great  numbers  in  the  prosperous  cities  of 
Spain. (')  They  had  grown  rich  by  honest  toil.  The  shops  of 
the  Hebrew  lined  the  narrow  streets  of  Cordova  or  Seville ; 
and  while  Moors  and  Christians  wasted  their  energy  in  useless 
wars,  the  capital  and  the  industry  of  the  nation  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  followers  of  Moses.  The  synagogue  grew  up  al- 
most unmolested  by  the  side  of  the  church,  and  learned  rabbis 
celebrated  their  ancient  rites  in  the  devout  cities  of  Spain. 
Acute  and  versatile  Hebrews  were  often  raised  to  high  offices 
in  the  State,  gained  the  favor  of  their  sovereign,  and  were 
intrusted  with  the  most  important  affairs.  .  The  highest  so- 

(')  Llorente,  i.,  p.  141 ;  Prescott,  Ferdinand  and  Isabella. 


THE  JEWS  PERSECUTED.  369 

cial  position  was  sometimes  attained  by  the  Jewisli  families.(^) 
Their  daughters,  gifted  with  the  rare  charms  of  an  Eastern 
clime,  richly  dowered,  and  educated  in  refinement  and  ease, 
often  intermarried  with  the  sons  of  proud  grandees  who 
traced  their  descent  from  the  comj^anions  of  the  Cid  ;  and  the 
immense  wealth  of  many  of  the  Castilian  nobles  was  due  to 
the  successful  industry  of  their  Hebrew  ancestors.  Jewish 
money-lenders  held  half  the  nation  their  debtors ;  the  Chris- 
tian nobles  and  oflicials,  careless  and  luxurious,  often  found 
themselves  fallen  into  a  servile  dependence  on  the  Hebrew ; 
the  debt  was  no  doubt  sometimes  enforced  with  rigor;  the 
rich  land,  the  ancient  estates  of  Aragon  and  Castile,  were 
transferred  to  the  Jewish  usurer ;  the  wealth  of  Spain  seemed 
about  to  centre  in  the  hands  of  an  alien  race.  A  throng  of 
prosperous  Jews  in  every  city  deserved,  by  their  industry  and 
frugal  lives,  their  cultivation  and  taste,  the  general  favor  of 
their  fellow-subjects. 

But  their  success  awakened  envy;  their  debtors  resolved 
upon  their  ruin.Q  The  fierce  flame  of  religious  hatred  was 
aroused  by  the  teachings  of  the  Popes  and  the  example  of 
Dominic.  The  avarice  or  the  dishonesty  of  the  Christians  was 
excited  by  the  convenient  doctrine  that  the  spoil  of  the  unbe- 
liever belonged  of  right  to  his  persecutors.  A  general  perse- 
cution of  the  Jews  began ;  and  the  unhappy  people,  teiTified 
at  the  torture  and  the  stake,  hastened  to  seek  for  safety  by  be- 
coming reconciled  to  the  Church.  Every  city  was  filled  with 
these  new  converts  who  had  abjured  the  errors  of  Moses  and 
received  the  rite  of  baptism.  The  synagogues  were  abandon- 
ed ;  the  Sabbaths  no  longer  observed ;  the  abject  race  con- 
formed with  dangerous  readiness  to  the  requirements  of  tlieir 
new  faith.  Yet  the  malice  of  their  enemies  would  not  be  sat- 
isfied with  their  speedy  conversion,  and  the  persecutors  soon 
discovered  with  secret  joy  that  many  of  tlie  new  Christians, 
as  the  recanting  Jews  were  called,  were  still  in  private  attach- 
ed to  the  Mosaic  rites,  were  in  the  habit  of  abstaining  from 
the  meats  forbidden  by  the  law,  of  observing  forbidden  festi- 

(•)  Llorente,  i.,  p.  141.  (^)  Id.,  i.,  pp.  142-146. 

24 


370  DOMIXIC  AXD  THE  IXQUISITIOX. 

tivals,  and  celebrating  within  the  seehision  of  their  homes  the 
worship  of  Jehovah.  A  new  persecution  broke  out  more  bit- 
ter tlian  the  first ;  the  relapsed  were  punished  with  cruel  pains ; 
informers  were  enriched  by  the  plunder  of  the  wealthy  crim- 
inals, and  the  Dominican  Inquisitors  wandered  over  Spain, 
crushing  with  austere  severity  the  most  mdustrious  and  de- 
serving portion  of  its  people.  Merchants,  mechanics,  artisans, 
men  of  intellect  and  eminent  statesmen,  the  chief  authors  of 
the  national  progress,  were  confined  in  horrible  dungeons, 
tried  by  the  code  of  Eymeric,  and  burned  with  novel  tort- 
ures.C) 

To  complete  the  extirpation  of  the  Jews,  the  Spanish  In- 
cpiisition  was  established  in  its  later  form.  It  was  a  more 
methodical  system  than  that  of  Dominic.  A  single  Inquisitor- 
general  presided  over  the  inferior  tribunals  established  in  the 
chief  cities  of  the  realm ;  an  army  of  familiars  acted  as  the 
spies  of  the  Dominicans  ;  a  series  of  holy  houses  was  built  for 
the  use  of  the  tribunal  and  its  victims;  a  rigid  watch  w^as 
kept  over  every  household ;  and  a  fearful  gloom  of  doubt  and 
terror  settled  upon  the  land.  The  Pope  approved  the  new 
machinery  of  torture ;  Queen  Isabella,  after  some  show  of  re- 
luctance, lent  it  her  especial  favor.  Torquemada  became  the 
Chief  Inquisitor  of  Castile,  and  his  dreaded  name  has  ever 
been  associated  with  a  relentless  reign  of  terror. 

Torquemada,  the  Caesar  of  the  Inquisition,  ruled  over  the 
Church  of  Spain  like  the  genius  of  slaughter.  It  is  difiicult 
to  compare  the  degrees  of  human  woe,  yet  it  is  probable  that 
no  pestilence  was  ever  more  hurtful,  no  conqueror  ever  more 
dangerous,  to  the  human  race  than  this  chief  of  the  holy  tri- 
bunal in  the  boasted  reign  of  Isabella.  He  is  said  to  have 
burned  ten  thousand  persons — his  own  countrymen — at  the 
stake ;  to  have  punished  a  hundred  thousand  more  with  im- 
prisonment in  his  dungeons,  ^vith  confiscation  and  ruin ;  to 
have  destroyed  an  equal  number  of  happy  homes.  But  in  this 
computation  are  not  included  his  countless  victims  among  the 
Jews.     And  these  frightful  enormities  were  pei'petrated  in  a 

(')  Lloreute,  i.,  p.  149 ;  Rule,  Hist,  of  the  Inquisition. 


TOEQUEMADA.  371 

nation  whose  population  can  not  have  numbered  many  mill- 
ions. The  tyrant,  conscious  of  general  hatred,  lived  in  a  con- 
stant alarm.  He  wore  "a  close  coat  of  mail;  a  mounted  body- 
guard of  fifty  familiars  of  the  Inquisition,  and  two  hundred  on 
foot,  surrounded  him  wherever  he  went :  shielded  by  the  fa- 
vor of  his  sovereign,  he  swept  through  the  provinces  of  Spain, 
carrying  desolation  to  the  peaceful  scenes  of  industry,  and  en- 
forcing the  exterminating  principles  of  Dominic.(') 

At  the  instigation  of  Torquemada,  an  edict  was  issued,  March 
30th,  1492,  banishing  every  Jew  and  Jewess  from  Spain  who 
refused  to  become  Christians.  Their  crimes  were  enumerated 
in  a  careful  preamble ;  the  wild  accusations  of  their  enemies 
had  been  eagerly  received  by  the  court,  and  it  was  believed 
that  the  Hebrews  had  intended  to  sacrifice  a  Christian  in- 
fant in  a  sacred  rite,  to  steal  a  consecrated  host,  and  poison  the 
Inquisitors  with  a  magic  compound ;  they  were  charged  with 
perverting  Christiaus,  and  indulging  in  impossible  crimes. 
The  last  day  of  July,  1492,  was  fixed  as  the  limit  of  their  stay 
in  their  native  land,  and  whoever  lingered  beyond  that  period 
was  to  be  punished  with  death.  The  dreadful  decree,  scarcely 
paralleled  in  cruelty  by  those  of  Louis  XIV.  or  Ahasuerus,  of 
Philip  II.  and  of  Alva,  was  received  with  wailing  and  lam- 
entation on  the  banks  of  the  Guadalquivir  and  the  Tagus, 
and  a  hundred  thousand  mourning  families,  often  among  the 
wisest  and  most  innocent  of  its  people,  prepared  to  part  for- 
ever from  their  beloved  land. 

Full  of  tender  impulses,  strongly  ruled  by  the  ties  of  home, 
of  relationship,  and  of  early  association,  often  connected  with 
the  most  eminent  Christian  families  by  marriage  and  a  com- 
mon descent,  the  Hebrew  population  employed  the  few  weeks 
that  yet  remained  in  supplicating  their  inhuman  masters  to 
recall  the  fatal  decree.  They  cried  aloud  for  mercy;  they 
promised  to  submit  to  any  law,  however  oppressive,  rather 
than  be  exiled  from  the  fair  landscapes  of  their  childhood, 
and  the  cities  and  villages  adorned  and  enriched  by  their  toil. 
An  aged  rabbi,  the  most  eminent  of  his  race,  who  was  well 

(')  Llorcnte,  i.,  p.  235 ;  Kule,  Hist.  luq.,  p.  113. 


372  DOMINIC  AND  THE  INQUISITION. 

known  to  the  king  and  queen,  knelt,  weeping,  at  tlieir  feet, 
offering  an  immense  ransom  of  six  hundred  thousand  pieces 
of  gold  for  mercy  to  his  people.  Again  and  again  he  return- 
ed, seeking  to  move  them.  Thrice  on  his  knees  he  importuned 
the  hard-hearted  Ferdinand.  "  I  wearied  myself,"  he  relates, 
"  to  madness  in  striving  to  win  tlieir  compassion ;  I  besought 
all  the  councilors  and  princes."  But  Isabella  interposed,  ruled 
by  the  priests,  and  Torquemada  forbade  the  reversal  of  the 
order.  Ferdinand,  tempted  by  the  rich  offering  of  the  Jews, 
might  have  yielded  to  their  prayers  ;  Isabella  was  inclined  to 
the  side  of  mercy ;  Torquemada  rushed  into  the  room  where 
they  were  deliberating,  and  cried  out,  "  Judas  sold  his  Master 
for  thirty  pieces  of  silver ;  your  highnesses  are  about  to  sell 
him  a  second  time  for  thirty  thousand."  He  flung  a  crucifix 
upon  the  table  before  them.  "  Sell  Him  if  you  will,"  he  ex- 
claimed, and  fled  from  their  presence.(')  His  fanatical  appeal 
was  successful ;  the  prayer  of  the  Jews  was  denied,  and  they 
were  ordered  to  leave  the  country.  They  were  permitted  to 
take  with  them  no  gold  nor  silver,  and  were  cast  out,  impov- 
erished, among  strangers. 

Torquemada  offered  them  baptism  and  reconciliation  to  the 
Church,  but  few  suljmitted.  He  then  forbade  all  Christians 
from  having  any  intercourse  with  them,  or  affording  them 
food  or  shelter.  In  July,  the  mournful  emigration  began, 
and  eight  hundred  thousand  persons,  in  long  and  sad  proces- 
sions, made  their  vray  to  the  sea-ports  and  frontiers  of  Spain. 
The  Jews  had  exchanged  their  fine  houses,  their  rich  vine- 
yards and  fair  estates,  for  articles  of  little  value ;  had  aban- 
doned their  synagogues  to  the  Christians,  and  traveled  on 
foot,  on  horseback,  or  in  wagons,  on  their  melancholy  jour- 
ney. Some  had  concealed  small  quantities  of  gold  in  their 
baggage ;  some  even  swallowed  their  golden  ducats  to  escape 
the  rigorous  search.  The  rich  defrayed  the  expenses  of  the 
poor  with  unstinted  generosity ;  the  strong  helped  the  weak ; 
women  walked  through  the  weary  journey  bearing  their  in- 
fants at  their  breasts ;  and  the  sick  and  aged  often  died  upon 

(')Rule,Hist.Inq.,p.  112. 


FATE  OF  THE  SPANISH  JEWS.  373 

the  way.  Even  the  Christians  wept  as  they  watched  the  faint- 
ing travelers,  and  besonght  them  to  be  converted;  but  very 
few  consented.  The  rabbis  strove  to  encourage  them  with 
cheerful  words,  and  made  the  youths  and  the  women  sing  or 
play  on  pipes  and  tabors  to  soothe  their  sorrow.  The  sweet 
songs  of  Israel  floated  with  touching  melody  over  the  path- 
way of  the  departing  exiles.(^) 

How  fair  and  graceful  women,  reared  in  luxurious  ease,  and 
learned  and  accomplished  men,  the  best  scholars  of  their  age, 
perished  in  the  crowded  ships,  or  died  starving  in  the  burning 
heats  of  Africa  and  Syria  —  how  fevers,  famine,  storm,  and 
quicksands  preyed  upon  the  disheartened  host — how  mothers 
sold  their  children  for  bread  —  how  faithful  Israelites  often 
preferred  death  to  the  violation  of  their  ancient  law  —  what 
infinite  woes  oppressed  the  victims  of  Torquemada,  is  told  by 
contemporary  writers  with  simple  and  startling  accuracy ;  and 
we  can  well  believe  that  in  the  last  years  of  his  life  the  Inquis- 
itor's conscience  was  oppressed  by  no  visionary  terrors ;  that 
he  lived  in  constant  fear  of  assassination ;  and  that  the  hor- 
rors he  had  inflicted  were  in  some  measure  avenged.  Hated 
and  contemned  by  his  countrymen,  he  might  well  fear  their 
rage.  The  people  of  Spain  abhorred  the  Inquisitor  and  the 
Inquisition.  They  felt  its  impolicy,  and  saw  that  it  aimed  its 
most  deadly  blows  against  the  purest  and  best  of  their  con- 
temporaries ;  but  their  opposition  was  overwhelmed  by  the 
feudal  and  priestly  caste,  and  the  labor  and  intellect  of  Spain' 
began  swiftly  to  decline. 

Yet  the  Inquisition  had  its  birth  at  a  moment  of  singular 
national  prosperity.  Granada  had  fallen  when  Torquemada 
issued  his  edict ;  Spain  was  united  from  the  Pyrenees  to  Gi- 
braltar ;  a  grave  and  thoughtful  mariner  was  soon  to  sail  from 
Palos,  on  an  expedition  that  was  to  bring  immortal  renown  to 
the  reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  The  New  AYorld  was 
added  to  their  dominions ;  while  the  voyage  of  Gama,  not 
long  after,  opened  to  the  sister  kingdom  of  Portugal  the 
boundless  commerce  of  the  Indies.     Soon  the  wealth  of  the 

(')  Contemporary  narrative.     Liudo,  Hist.  Jews  in  Spain  and  Portugal. 


374  DOMINIC  AND  THE  INQUISITION. 

world  began  to  flow  into  the  fortunate  peninsula  —  the  gold 
of  Mexico  and  Peru,  the  gems  and  spices  of  the  East,  were 
distributed  over  Europe  from  the  ports  of  Lisbon  and  Cadiz ; 
the  Spaniards  and  the  Portuguese  seemed  to  stand  in  the 
front  rank  of  the  advancing  civilization  of  the  age.  But  in 
their  onward  path  stood  the  genius  of  Dominic,  turning  them 
back  \vith  the  flaming  sword  of  persecution.  The  holy  houses 
and  the  familiars,  the  stringent  rule  that  repressed  liberty  of 
conscience,  the  silent  terror  that  rested  constantly  upon  the 
minds  of  men,  planted  the  elements  of  decay  in  the  heart  of 
their  wonderful  prosperity.  There  is  no  more  remarkable 
spectacle  in  history  than  that  of  the  swift  and  unprecedented 
decline  of  Spain  and  Portugal.  The  Inquisition  penetrated  to 
every  part  of  the  peninsula ;  followed  in  the  track  of  Gama 
and  Columbus ;  destroyed  the  vigor  of  the  most  magnificent 
colonies  the  world  had  ever  seen ;  was  as  fatal  to  India  as  to 
South  America ;  and  England  and  Holland  snatched  from 
the  enfeebled  South  all  the  fruits  of  its  renowned  achieve- 
ments. 

Torquemada  died,  and  was  succeeded  by  Deza,  the  second 
of  the  great  Inquisitors.  He  was  no  unworthy  governor  of 
the  powerful  tribunal.  His  victims  are  said  to  have  number- 
ed nearly  forty  thousand,  of  whom  twenty-five  hundred  suffer- 
ed the  extreme  penalty  of  fire.  Deza  supplied  the  Holy  Of- 
fice with  new  laws,  improved  its  organization,  and  carefully 
enjoined  that  no  town  or  hamlet,  however  humble,  should  be 
left  unvisited  by  the  Inquisitor.(')  Under  his  successful  rule 
the  secret  tribunal  grew  into  a  vast  engine  of  state,  whose  in- 
cessant blows  fell  heavily  upon  the  great  as  well  as  the  low. 
Bishops  and  archbishops,  grandees  and  princes,  were  made  to 
feel  the  power  of  the  fearless  tyrant ;  the  Church  trembled  be- 
fore the  Inquisition ;  the  people  murmured,  often  rose  in  re- 
volt, and  were  crushed  into  obedience.  Deza  died  in  the 
midst  of  a  storm  of  discord  in  Church  and  State ;  his  successor 
was  "the  learned,  the  liberal,  the  munificent"  Cardinal  Xi- 
menes.     To  the  liberal  cardinal,  Llorente  attributes  over  fifty 

(')  Lloreute,  i.,  p.  333. 


TEE  MOORS  IN  SPAIN.  375 

thousand  victims.  Under  this  learned  Inquisitor  the  holy 
houses  sprung  up  in  great  numbers,  and  within  their  secret 
cells  were  perpetrated  unexampled  enormities.  They  were 
filled  with  accomplished  scholars,  rising  poets,  pm-e  and  high- 
born women,  the  artisan,  and  the  serf ;  and  to  the  magnificent 
Ximenes  is  due  the  gradual  extinction  of  the  last  traces  of  the 
Moorish  civilization  of  Spain. 

The  Moors  had  filled  the  lower  provinces  of  the  peninsula 
with  countless  evidences  of  their  industry  and  their  taste.(') 
Gardens  of  rare  beauty,  blooming  with  the  flowers  of  the  trop- 
ics ;  farms  cultivated  and  watered  into  perennial  fertility ; 
factories  where  the  finest  tissues  of  linen  or  silk  were  woven 
by  workmen  of  unrivaled  skill ;  palaces  and  mosques  whose 
rich  and  lavish  decorations  surpassed  the  fairest  creations  of 
the  Gothic  architects ;  schools  and  colleges  whose  accomplish- 
ed professors  had  taught  to  barbarous  Europe  the  first  ele- 
ments of  the  sciences — were  swept  into  ruin  by  the  ruthless 
Inquisitors,  and  faded  away  with  tlie  wonderful  race  that  gave 
them  birth.  A  few  shattered  fragments,  a  few  modern  im- 
itations, alone  attest  the  taste  of  the  Moorish  builders.  At 
Seville,  the  Alcazar  displays  the  wild  yet  chastened  splendor, 
the  myriad  of  original  decorations,  the  lavish  use  of  color  and 
mosaic,  that  marked  the  palaces  of  the  Saracenic  rulers ;  at 
Granada,  the  delicate  outline  and  stately  courts  of  the  Alham- 
bra  have  delighted  and  instructed  generations  of  observers ; 
and  the  imagination  may  faintly  conceive  what  was  the  pride 
and  glory  of  the  land  when  its  busy  cities,  clad  in  orange 
groves  and  hidden  in  verdure,  were  filled  with  a  dusky  people 
cultivated  to  the  highest  refinement,  and  were  profusely  adorn- 
ed with  a  native  architecture  of  which  the  Alcazar  and  the 
Alhambra  are  almost  the  last  surviving  examples-C*) 

Avarice  and  fanaticism  soon  destroyed  the  feeble  Moors. 
They  were  ordered  by  the  Inquisitors  to  be  baptized ;  they 

(')  Llorente,  i.,  p.  325. 

(^)  Wells,  Antiquities  of  Spain,  p.  327,  describes  the  Alcazar  at  Seville, 
its  court, and  orange  groves.  And  Lady  Louisa  Teuuison  laments  over  the 
fall  of  the  Moors  amidst  their  rare  creations,  p.  38G.  Cordova,  too,  has  fine 
remains  of  Moorish  architecture. 


376  DOMINIC  AND   THE  INQUISITION. 

yielded.  Tliey  were  still  dragged  to  the  dungeons  of  tlie  holy 
houses  on  suspicion  of  a  relapse.  On  the  faintest  evidence 
of  having  abstained  from  wine  or  forbidden  meats,  they  were 
sent  to  the  torture.  They  rose  in  fierce  but  vain  revolts ;  they 
fled  to  the  wild  mountains,  and  hid  in  dismal  forests.  Their 
factories  were  closed ;  their  colleges  disbanded ;  their  wealth, 
once  the  wonder  of  their  contemporaries,  melted  away ;  and  at 
length  a  few  impoverished  and  dejected  Moors,  the  remnants 
of  a  mighty  race,  seared  by  the  fires  of  the  Inquisition,  were 
banished  from  Spain  (1609),  amidst  the  savage  joy  of  the  de- 
vout court  and  the  haughty  Dominicans.  It  is  not  possible  to 
estimate  accurately  the  loss  of  their  native  land  in  the  expul- 
sion or  the  destruction  of  the  Moors  and  the  Jews ;  several 
millions  of  the  population  perished ;  cities  and  villages  sunk 
into  ruin ;  the  most  industrious  of  its  people  were  extirpated ; 
and  neither  the  genius  of  Columbus  nor  the  valor  of  Cortez 
could  make  amends  for  that  fatal  check  which  the  prosperity 
of  Spain  received  at  the  hands  of  its  Inquisition. 

Since  the  time  when  the  Dominicans  had  wandered  by 
night  through  the  streets  of  Albi,  dragging  its  affrighted  her- 
etics to  their  secret  tribunal,  the  Holy  Inquisition  had  con- 
stantly advanced,  until  it  became  a  well-ordered  and  method- 
ical institution,  governed  by  a  code  of  laws  that  seemed  to  its 
admirers  the  perfection  of  wisdom  and  humanity.  The  co- 
pious rules  of  Eymeric,  laid  down  in  the  fourteenth  century, 
formed  the  basis  of  its  proceedings.(')  They  were  extended 
and  improved  by  the  experience  of  Deza  and  Torqueraada. 
The  first  principle  of  its  conduct  was  a  solemn  secrecy.  Its 
familiars  and  informers  mingled  in  all  societies,  watching  si- 
lently for  their  prey.  The  heretic  was  seized  without  any 
warning.  He  was  ordered  to  appear  at  the  Holy  House.Q 
Here  he  was  required  to  state  whether  he  was  conscious  of 
any  heretical  act  or  thought.     He  was  shut  up  alone  in  a  cell 

(' )  Llorente,  i.,  p.  85.     Eymeric  composed  his  "  Guide  "  about  1356. 

O  Almost  the  first  stop  was  plunder;  see  Montauiis,  Inquisition  :  "Bo- 
norum  seqnestratio."  Tiie  accused  was  asked  "  an  liabeat  secum  aut  pecu- 
niam,  anulumne,  aut  monile  aliquod  pretiosum."  His  goods  were  seques- 
trated. 


THE  HOLY  HOUSES.  377 

in  order  to  give  him  leisure  for  reflection.  From  liis  dreadful 
solitude,  in  darkness  and  despair,  he  was  brought  out  to  fre- 
quent examinations  before  the  awful  tribunal ;  and  if  he  still 
refused  to  confess  his  crime,  he  was  shown  the  instruments  of 
torture.  If  he  still  remained  obstinate,  the  torture  was  ap- 
plied in  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Inquisitors :  it  was  renewed 
as  often  as  his  strength  allowed.  Often  months  and  years 
rolled  over  the  obdurate  reformer,  alternating  between  the  si- 
lent gloom  of  his  narrow  dungeon  and  the  unsparing  applica- 
tion of  the  dreadful  rack.  Men  and  women  grew  crazed  with 
suffering,  and  the  strongest  intellects  sunk  into  idiocy.  At 
last  the  impenitent  reformer  was  declared  condemned  and  con- 
victed, was  given  over  to  the  civil  tribunal,  and  graced  the 
final  festival  of  the  triumphant  Church. 

The  holy  houses  of  Castile  and  Aragon  had  also  been  im- 
proved. At  first  a  castle  in  the  Triana  of  Seville  was  used 
as  a  prison  for  the  suspected ;  but  as  the  Inquisition  grew  in 
power  its  residence  was  called  a  palace ;  its  holy  house  was 
usually  a  vast  and  sombre  building,  strongly  built,  and  placed 
in  a  conspicuous  street  of  the  city  it  was  designed  to  overawe. 
Within,  it  possessed  spacious  and  often  splendid  apartments, 
where  the  high  officials  lived  in  luxurious  ease,  and  whose 
walls  often  resounded  with  the  sound  of  revels  and  feasts,  of 
witty  conversation  and  licentious  mirth.  But  beneath  were 
the  dungeons  and  the  cells.  A  long  corridor  or  hall  was  lined 
on  each  side  with  chambers  ten  feet  deep,  liglited  by  a  small 
aperture  with  a  faint  gloom,  and  shut  in  by  double  doors  of 
immense  strength.  A  single  prisoner  was  usually  inclosed  in 
each  cell ;  he  saw  no  one  but  the  jailer,  and  was  fed  upon 
scanty  and  coarse  food.  No  friend  was  permitted  to  visit  or 
to  cheer  him,  or  even  know  of  his  abode ;  he  met  only  the 
averted  glance  of  familiars  who  abhorred  him  as  a  heretic,  or 
of  the  Inquisitors  who  condemned  him  to  the  rack.  He  was 
forbidden  to  cry  out,  to  lament,  or  even  to  implore  the  mercy 
of  his  tormentors  ;  the  watchful  officers  enjoined  a  perfect  si- 
lence through  the  dim  corridor,  and  its  crowded  population 
were  early  taught  the  danger  of  disobedience.  A  maniac 
laugh,  a  feeble  wail,  alone  were  heard  at  intervals  in  the  abode 


378  DOMINIC  AND  TEE  INQUISITION. 

of  despair.  (')  Yet  far  down  below,  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  were  the  deepest  dungeons  of  the  Inquisition,  the  pris- 
ons of  the  most  advanced  of  the  reformers.  Here  no  ray  of 
light  penetrated,  no  genial  warmth  from  heaven  reached  the 
chill  and  moldy  cells.(')  Here  Lutherans  and  Calvinists,  the 
impenitent  Jew,  the  relapsed  Morisco,  the  English  missionary, 
and  the  Vaudois  teacher  were  held  close  in  the  grasp  of  the 
Inquisition.  A  company  of  the  gentle  and  the  good  wasted 
away  in  perpetual  torture.  For  them  no  hope  remained  un- 
til, at  the  caprice  of  some  royal  Catholic  or  ambitious  Inquis- 
itor, they  were  summoned  from  then*  living  grave  to  ascend 
amidst  the  flames  to  heaven. 

Such  were  the  remedial  pains  of  the  holy  tribunal,  whose 
memory  is  still  held  dear  by  the  advocates  of  papal  infallibil- 
ity. We  shall  not  pause  to  dwell  upon  the  variety  and  the 
curious  originality  of  the  implements  of  torture.  The  inge- 
nuity of  meditative  monks  and  fanciful  Inquisitors  seems  to 
have  been  employed  through  laborious  days  and  years  of  vig- 
ils in  the  wonderful  inventions :  the  machines  for  twisting 
joints  and  stretching  sinews ;  the  ponderous  weights  that 
pressed  upon  the  body ;  the  stream  of  water  whose  intermit- 
tent flow  was  designed  to  produce  a  temporary  suffocation ;  or 
the  thumb-screw  and  the  various  improvements  upon  the  rack.Q 
Yet  it  may  be  safely  asserted  that  each  machine  was  well  fitted 
for  its  appropriate  aim,  and  must  convey  a  high  idea  of  the  in- 
ventive genius  of  the  disciples  of  Loyola  and  Dominic. 

So  vigorous,  so  successful  had  been  the  assault  of  the  In- 
quisitors upon  the  new  civilization  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
that,  like  the  Albigenses  of  the  thirteenth,  the  reformers  of 
Europe  seemed  everywhere  disheartened  or  destroyed.  An 
apparent  unity  reigned  throughout  the  West.  IIuss  had  per- 
ished at  Constance ;  the  ashes  of  W3"cliffe  had  been  scattered 
to  the  winds ;  the  Pateriui  concealed  themselves  in  the  cities 

(')  Montanus,  iu  Refomiistas  Autigiios  Espauoles,  vol.  siii.,  p.  24. 

C)  Moutauus:  "Augustia,  pcdore  et  si  inferue  est,  huiniditate,  sepulcruin 
qiiam  vivorum  cai'cerem  lectins  dixeris,"  p.  105. 

O  The  plates  iu  such  books  as  the  IiKiuisition  Unmasked,  etc.,  give 
a  trustworthy  couceptiou  of  the  various  tortures. 


SAVONAEOLA,  379 

of  Italy ;  the  people  of  Europe,  never  reconciled  to  the  tyr- 
anny of  Rome,  were  yet  terrified  into  silence ;  an  infallible 
Pope,  a  Borgia,  or  a  Medici  ruled  unchecked  from  the  bleak 
Grampian  Hills  to  the  torrid  coasts  of  Sicily ;  and  the  fires  of 
the  Inquisition  were  soon  to  be  lighted  in  the  city  of  Mon- 
tezuma and  the  capitals  of  Hindostan.  A  halcyon  day  had 
come  to  Christendom,  and  the  Church  was  never  more  out- 
wardly prosperous  than  when  Alexander  YI.  sat  on  the  papal 
throne,  or  when  his  son,  Caesar  Borgia,  preyed  upon  the  peo- 
ple of  Rome.  The  awful  prodigy  of  a  man  eminent  in  crime 
presiding  over  the  congregation  of  Christians,  and  proclaiming 
his  own  infallibility,  awakened  no  resistance  in  the  minds  of 
priests  or  Inquisitors,  and  the  voice  of  the  people  was  hushed 
in  tlie  general  terror  of  the  Dominicans. 

One  illustrious  victim  alone  had  ventured  to  denounce  the 
crimes  of  Alexander,  and  to  herald  the  era  of  reform.  Sa- 
vonarola had  fled  from  his  father's  house  in  early  youth  to 
become  a  Dominican  monk,  and  had  given  his  life  to  austere 
devotion.Q  His  first  attempts  in  preaching  had  failed— he 
stammered,  he  faltered;  but  his  fervid  genius  and  his  bound- 
less faith  soon  threw  ofE  the  restraints  of  timidity,  and  his 
commanding  intellect  gathered  around  him  a  host  of  fol- 
lowers. From  the  magnilicent  Cathedral  of  St.  Mark,  at 
Florence,  in  the  classical  and  skeptical  age  of  Lorenzo  de' 
Medici,  he  assailed,  with  unexampled  eloquence,  the  corrup- 
tions of  the  Church,  the  vices  of  the  Pope,  and  even  the  ele- 
gant licentiousness  of  the  great  Lorenzo.  Immense  congrega- 
tions heard  with  delight  his  inspired  voice,  and  it  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  conceive  with  what  extraordinary  power  such  sermons 
as  those  on  the  vanity  of  human  glory  and  the  chief  end  of 
man  must  have  touched  the  consciences  of  the  impassioned 
people.(*)     Florence  was  swept  by  a  storm  of  religious  frenzy. 

(')  Tiraboschi,  vi.,  p.  1125.  He  was  born  1452.  He  became  a  Dominican. 
He  began  some  years  after  to  ascend  the  pulpit — "a  salire  sul  pergamo  in 
Firenze  " — but  "with  little  success. 

(^)  Sermoni  e  Prediche  di  F.  G.  Savonarola,  1846.  Delia  Pace  Supcrna  Cit- 
tk ;  Del  Verbo  della  Vita,  etc.  "  Lasciate  ormai  i  pcnsieri  del  secolo,  c  ricor- 
datevi  del  vostro  Creatore,"  he  cried,  p.  34.     See  Del  Fine  dell'  Uomo,  p.  189. 


3S0  DOMINIC  AND   THE  INQUISITION. 

At  the  command  of  the  new  reformer  nobles  abandoned  their 
hixurious  indolence,  and  the  people  cast  aside  their  hght 
amusements,  to  join  in  the  austere  observances  of  the  con- 
gregation of  St.  Mark's.  The  world  was  forgotten  and  de- 
spised, and  every  eye  was  fixed  on  a  life  in  the  city  of  God. 
Savonarola  lived  in  a  monkish  cell ;  but  he  had  early  been 
touched  by  the  sorrows  of  the  poor,  and  his  aspiring  genius 
seems  to  have  meditated  a  political,  a  moral,  and  a  religious 
reform.  He  resolved  to  make  Florence  once  more  a  repub- 
lic, to  curb  the  tyranny  of  the  great,  to  destroy  the  papacy,  to 
arouse  in  the  heart  of  decaying  and  licentious  Italy  the  higher 
impulses  of  an  uncorrupted  faith. 

When  Lorenzo  the  Magniticent  was  dying,  he  perhaps  re- 
membered the  sermon  on  the  heavenly  city,  and  sent  for  the 
monk  to  hear  his  last  confession ;  the  preacher  came  to  the 
bedside  of  his  enemy,  full  of  charity  and  forgiveness.  He 
heard  his  promises  of  amendment,  bade  him  submit  to  the  will 
of  God,  but  required  him  to  declare  that,  if  he  survived,  he 
would  restore  its  ancient  liberty  to  Florence.  Lorenzo  hesi- 
tated ;  Savonarola  left  the  room  without  giving  him  his  absolu- 
tion. The  legend  may  not  be  trustworthy,  but  it  indicates  the 
vigorous  love  of  freedom  that  was  attributed  by  his  contem- 
poraries to  the  eloquent  monk.  Soon  after  Lorenzo  had  died 
a  republic  sprung  up  at  Florence,  of  which  Savonarola  became 
the  spiritual  chief;  he  labored  for  the  elevation  of  the  work- 
ing-classes, and  strove  to  blend  together  the  whole  population 
in  the  enjoyment  of  liberty,  equality,  and  religious  freedom.Q 
Yet  it  is  possible  that  his  various  and  endless  excitements  dis- 
turbed his  reason,  and  that  in  his  last  years  he  believed  him- 
self capable  of  prophesying  and  working  miracles  as  well  as 
of  amending  mankind.  His  generous  life  came  to  a  disastrous 
close.     One  of  his  followers  promised  to  work  a  miracle,  but 

(')  "To  some,"  says  Tiraboschi,  with  caution,  "he  seemed  inspired;  to 
some,  an  impostor."  The  learned  Jesuit  can  not  admit  that  Savonarola  was 
a  saint,  for  had  he  not  been  condemned  ?  vi.,  p.  1126.  Roscoe,  Life  of  Loren- 
zo, ii.,  pp.  370,  375,  sneers  at  the  ardor  and  hopes  of  the  victim.  But  Comi- 
nes,  c.  xxvi.,  bears  witness  to  the  sanctity  of  his  life ;  says  he  did  not  at- 
tempt the  miracle,  and  was  destroyed  by  a  faction. 


DEATH  OF  SAVONAROLA.  381 

failed ;  his  enemies  seized  Savonarola,  and  dragged  him,  with 
two  of  his  friends,  to  prison  ;  the  guilty  pope,  Alexander  YI., 
prepared  a  commission  to  try  him  for  heresy ;  he  was  put  to 
the  torture,  was  condemned,  and,  with  his  two  associates,  was 
burned  in  the  city  he  had  labored  to  set  free.  Ilis  ashes  were 
thrown  into  the  Arno,  and  the  fair  river  of  Florence  is  ever 
eloquent  with  the  fate  of  the  great  genius  that,  perhaps,  laid 
the  foundations  of  European  reform. 

Savonarola  had  taught  that  civil  and  religious  freedom  are 
inseparable,  and  his  austere  lessons  perhaps  affected  the  opin- 
ions of  the  chief  of  sculptors,  Michael  Angelo,(')  and  the  taste- 
ful Vittoria  Colonna.  But  with  his  death  the  Inquisition 
ruled  once  more  unrestrained,  and  the  zeal  of  the  Dominicans 
was  only  baffled  by  the  difficulty  of  finding  a  heretic  in  all  the 
wide  dominion  of  the  Church.  The  holy  houses  were  empty 
except  for  a  few  sorcerers  or  magicians,  and  the  abundant 
machinery  of  the  secret  chambers  decayed  in  idle  disuse. 
Alexander,  Julius,  or  Leo  X.  had  no  disobedient  children,  and 
the  people  of  Europe  slumbered  in  peaceful  submission. 

As  if  to  provide  sufficient  employment  for  the  disciples  of 
Dominic,  for  priests  and  kings,  another  monk  renewed  the 
contest  between  the  people  and  the  Church ;  and  at  the  com- 
mand of  Luther,  a  greater  Savonarola,  the  next  important 
struggle  began  between  Europe  and  the  Pope.  There  was 
now  no  more  rest  for  the  Inquisitors.  The  Reformation 
made  its  way  even  to  Spain,  and  the  holy  houses  of  Valladolid 
and  Seville  were  once  more  filled  to  excess  with  tlie  learned, 
the  progressive,  and  the  wise.Q  Even  Italy  itself  was  found 
to  be  swarming  with  gentle  and  cultivated  reformers ;  whole 
states  and  kingdoms  in  the  North  separated  from  the  infal- 
lible Church,  and  were  only  to  be  regained  by  fire  and  the 
sword.  The  ashes  of  Savonarola,  that  had  been  flung  into  the 
Arno ;  the  ashes  of  Huss  and  Jerome,  that  had  consecrated 
the  Rhine,  had  germinated  into  countless  bands  of  heretics, 

(')  Prediche,  Preface. 

(^)  Reforniistas  Autigiios  Espanoles,  vol.  ii. ;  Perez,  Epistola.  Bibles  and 
tracts  were  brought  into  Spaiu  hidden  in  casks  of  wine,  p.  10.  Seville  and 
Valladolid  were  full  of  Lutherans. 


382  DOMINIC  AND  THE  INQUISITION. 

who  renewed  the  faith  and  the  rites  of  the  Albigenses  and  the 
Yaudois,  and  who  proclaimed  the  revival  of  apostolic  truth. 

Surrounded  by  the  advancing  tide  of  modern  civilization, 
assailed  by  the  printing-press  and  the  free  school,  the  keen 
literature  of  progress,  the  discoveries  of  science,  and  the 
mighty  intellects  of  the  reformers  of  the  North,  the  Inquisi- 
tors of  the  sixteenth  century  showed  no  want  of  barbarous  zeal 
in  their  defense  of  the  infallible  Church.  In  Italy  and  Spain 
their  victory  was  complete.(')  The  Spanish  Inquisition  sprung 
up  into  fresh  vigor ;  new  Torquemadas  and  Dezas  applied  the 
code  of  Eymeric  to  every  city  and  village,  and  banished  every 
trace  of  heresy  from  the  decaying  land ;  a  long  line  of  illus- 
trious victims  perished,  almost  unrecorded,  at  the  hands  of  the 
secret  tribunal  ;f )  monks  were  snatched  from  their  cells,  bish- 
ops from  their  thrones,  professors  from  their  colleges,  and 
grave  citizens  from  their  families  and  homes,  to  pine  in  hid- 
eous dungeons,  and  die  at  last  amidst  the  flames.  The  litera- 
ture of  the  age  reflected  the  spirit  of  persecution,  and  great 
poets  and  historians  encouraged  the  barbarous  instincts  of 
their  countrymen.  The  descendants  of  the  generous  Cid, 
the  contemporaries  of  Camoens  and  Cervantes,  became  noted 
throughout  Europe  for  their  savage  cruelty ;  the  Inquisition 
had  instructed  the  Spanish  and  Portuguese  in  lessons  of  bar- 
barism such  as  no  civilized  race  had  ever  learned,  and  had 
planted  its  holy  houses  and  celebrated  its  fearful  sacrifices 
throughout  all  the  vast  region  that  had  been  won  by  the  gen- 
ius of  Columbus  and  De  Gama. 

The  favorite  spectacle  of  the  Spaniards  was  an  auto-da-fe. 
As  the  holy  day  approached  on  which  the  enemies  of  the 
Church  were  to  perish,  a  sacred  joy  sat  on  every  countenance. 
Seville  or  Yalladolid  resounded  with  the  note  of  preparation ; 
the  great  square  was  filled  with  workmen  raising  a  series  of 
seats  for  vast  numbers  of  spectators,  and  the  halls  of  the 

(')  Llorente  or  Rule  may  be  consulted;  Montaiins;  and  Perez, Epistola. 

(")  Eeforniistas  Antigiios  Espauoles,  vol.  ii. ;  Perez,  Epistola,  lut.,  p. 
xviii.  Two  lauudred  reforuiers  were  arrested  ou  oue  day  at  Seville  ;  in  all 
eight  hundred.  Perez  wrote  his  consolatory  letter  to  the  persecuted  con- 
gregation. 


AX  auto-da-fjS.  383 

Palace  of  the  Inquisition  echoed  with  religious  festivity.Q 
The  most  glorious  sacrifice  of  the  Universal  Church  was  about 
to  be  celebrated ;  its  safety  and  honor  were  once  more  to  be 
assured ;  priests  and  citizens  exulted  that  the  city  of  their  birth 
was  to  be  purged  from  the  chief  of  criminals,  and  that  heresy 
was  to  find  no  shelter  in  the  streets  still  enlivened  by  the 
orange  gardens  and  the  graceful  courts  of  the  exiled  Moors, 
and  adorned  by  the  palaces  and  cathedrals  reared  from  the 
plunder  of  the  industrious  Jews.  A  lavish  expense  was  wasted 
on  the  national  festival.  No  Roman  triumph  or  imperial 
show  could  equal  in  magnificence  the  great  acts  of  faith  of 
Valladolid  and  Seville ;(°)  no  gladiatorial  combat  within  the 
Coliseum  was  ever  witnessed  with  deeper  enthusiasm ;  no  Ro- 
man multitude  was  ever  more  eager  to  cast  Ignatius  to  the 
lions  than  were  the  assembled  hosts  of  priests  and  people  to 
conduct  the  feeble  heretic  to  the  flames. 

On  the  day  before  the  festival  the  gates  of  the  palace  of  the 
Inquisition  were  thrown  open.  From  its  secret  halls  a  band 
of  its  servants  descended  into  the  public  square,  amidst  a 
crowd  of  spectators,  bearing  banners  on  which  the  rules  of 
the  proceedings  were  inscribed.  For  two  days  the  Inquisitors 
took  possession  of  the  city,  and  gave  notice  that  no  one,  how- 
ever high  his  rank,  should  wear  arms  during  the  festival,  and 
that  no  private  carriages  w^ould  be  allowed  on  the  streets 
through  which  the  procession  was  to  pass.  Meantime  every 
household  was  filled  with  a  singular  interest  —  a  feigned  or 
fanatical  joy.  The  little  children  who  were  at  school  were 
being  trained  to  the  part  they  were  to  take  in  the  gay  pro- 
cession; young  men  and  women  were  eager  to  secure  seats 
on  the  grand  gallery,  where  they  could  observe  the  splendors 
of  the  royal  court  and  the  magnificence  of  the  procession ;  the 
prudent  parents  prepared  to  join  the  eager  crowd,  lest  their 
absence  might  provoke  some  jealous  priest.     At  night  the 

(')  Schmidt,  Moncb-  u.  Nomien-Orclen,  p.  159:  "Die  auto-da-fe  wareu 
Feierlichkeiten." 

C)  Montes,  Inquisition,  in  Ref.  Ant.  Espauoles,  vol.  v., p.  146:  "El  apa- 
rato  i  pompa  con  que  en  el  aqnel  triunfo  se  prozecle,  que  ni  Persica  poiupa, 
ni  Romano  triunfo,  pueda  compararse." 


384:  DOMINIC  AND  THE  INQUISITION. 

interest  deepened.  The  procession  of  the  Green  Cross,  com- 
posed of  all  the  monks  and  friars  of  the  city,  and  of  all  the 
secret  tribunal,  assembled  at  the  Holy  House,  and,  bearing  long 
white  torches,  passed  through  the  i:)ublic  streets  to  the  place 
of  execution.  An  altar  had  been  raised  on  a  scaffold  in  its 
midst,  and  a  large  green  cross,  covered  with  a  black  veil,  rose 
high  over  the  scene.  Around  it  blazed  twelve  white  tapers 
of  enormous  size.  A  low,  sad  chant  was  raised  by  the  monks 
as  they  moved  along;  the  veil  was  taken  from  the  cross;  a 
band  of  instrumental  music  filled  the  air  with  barbarous  mel- 
ody; a  guard  of  lancers  and  a  few  Dominicans  were  left  to 
watch  the  green  cross  throughout  the  night,  and  the  monks 
and  friars  dispersed  until  the  morning.(') 

The  first  gay  beams  of  sunlight  on  the  festal  day  were  wel- 
comed by  the  incessant  tolling  of  the  great  bell  of  the  cathe- 
dral. The  people  sprung  up  at  the  summons,  and  all  the  city 
was  full  of  expectation.  The  King  of  Spain,  the  royal  family, 
and  all  the  beauty  and  chivalry  of  the  realm,  were  to  prove 
their  piety  by  attending  at  the  act  of  faith ;  the  most  holy 
bishops  and  archbishops,  and  all  the  inferior  clergy,  were  to 
assist  at  the  destruction  of  the  traducers  of  Mary.  Meanwhile 
at  the  Holy  House  a  banquet  was  prepared  for  the  throng  of 
ofiicials  ;(■)  next,  the  Chief  Inquisitor,  standing  at  the  door  of 
the  palace,  read  the  roll  of  the  condemned.  They  came  forth 
at  his  summons,  fainting,  from  noisome  dungeons,  starvation, 
disease,  or  torture ;  some  with  a  smile  of  triumph,  some  weep- 
ing in  idiotic  woe.  Those  who  were  to  be  burned  wore  a  yel- 
low sack  over  their  feeble  bodies — a  tall  paper  cap  upon  their 
heads,  painted  with  the  figures  of  horrible  demons ;  those  less 
guilty  M'ore  coarse  black  cloaks ;  some  were  gagged ;  and  by 
the  side  of  each  victim  walked  two  guards,  or  sponsors,  to  sup- 
port him  to  the  place  of  death.(') 

It  was  usually  a  Lord's  day,  the  hours  hallowed  by  the  joy- 
ous memory  of  the  resurrection,  when  the  procession  began 

(')  Rule,  Hist.  Inq. 

(-)  Moutiinus,  p.  132:  "  Spleudescente  mane,  raiuistri  ac  familiares,"  etc. 
(')  Rule,  Hist.  Inq.,  p.  152.     The  form  of  the  procession  seems  to  have 
varied  at  times,  but  the  Inquisitors  were  always  most  conspicuous. 


THE  PROCESSION  OF  IXQUISITOES.  385 

to  move  tlirougli  the  orange  groves  and  beneath  the  sunny 
skies  of  Seville.  At  its  head  came  the  Dominicans,  bearing  a 
black  banner  inscribed  with  a  green  cross.  Full  of  pomp  and 
pride,  the  Chief  Inquisitor  and  his  servants,  surrounded  by  a 
mounted  company  of  familiars,  led  the  way  to  the  scene  of 
their  final  triumph.  A  troop  of  little  children  from  the  city 
schools  came  next,  the  emblems  of  innocence.  The  victims 
followed,  in  yellow  robes  and  towering  caps,  walking  two  by 
two.  In  front  of  them  was  borne  a  banner,  o^n  which  was 
painted  the  severe  but  august  likeness  of  Dominic,  founder  of 
the  Inquisition.  Images  or  effigies  of  heretics  who  had  es- 
caped the  rage  of  the  persecutor  came  next,  destined  to  be 
thrown  into  the  flames.  All  the  authorities  of  the  city,  high 
officials  and  dignified  citizens,  followed ;  tlien  a  long  train  of 
regular  and  secular  clergy,  and  a  crowd  of  the  rabble  of  the 
town.  To  the  chant  of  a  solemn  litany,  the  various  members 
of  the  procession,  led  by  the  Inquisitors,  entered  the  vast  am- 
phitheatre provided  for  the  spectacle,  and  slowly  ascended  to 
their  appropriate  seats  in  the  spacious  galleries.  (') 

Never  scene  more  imposing  opened  upon  human  eyes  than 
one  of  these  palaces  of  persecution  raised  by  skillful  architects 
in  the  stately  square  of  Valladolid —  a  limitless  range  of  plat- 
forms and  galleries,  encircling  a  broad  arena,  covered  with  rich 
carpets  and  costly  hangings,  bright  with  ornaments  of  gems 
and  gold,  splendid  with  thrones  and  chairs  of  state,  and  so  ar- 
ranged that  from  every  seat  the  spectator  might  embrace  at 
a  glance  the  whole  scene  of  the  dying  heretic  and  the  count- 
less array  of  his  persecutors.  On  Sunday,  October  8th,  1559, 
Philip  11. ,  to  prove  his  gratitude  to  Heaven  for  preserving 
him  in  a  violent  storm  off  Laredo,  celebrated  an  act  of  faith 
at  Valladolid.  The  splendor  of  the  pageant  was  miexampled. 
The  wealth  of  the  Indies  was  lavished  in  decorating  the  pan- 
demonium, and  providing  robes  and  banquets  for  the  eccle- 
siastical concourse.  The  grand  square  of  Valladolid  was  en- 
circled by  magnificent  ranges  of  galleries,  radiant  with  gilding. 


(')  Montes,  p.  146 :  " Las  canziones  sou  las  letauias  de  los  sautos,"  etc.    I 
have  sometimes  used  the  Latin  text. 

25 


386  DOMINIC  AND   THE  INQUISITION. 

and  hiino;  with  cloth  of  the  rarest  texture.  In  one  sat  the 
King  of  Spain  and  of  the  Indies,  with  his  son,  the  Prince  of 
xYstiirias,  who  was  believed  to  be  tainted  with  the  heresies  of 
the  Netherlands,  and  w^ho  was  himself  destined  to  die  at  a 
later  period  by  the  hands  of  the  Inqiiisitors.C)  His  sister  and 
his  cousin,  the  Prince  of  Parma,  were  also  there.  Three  em- 
bassadors from  France  looked  on  at  the  splendid  scene.  The 
Archbishop  of  Seville,  with  a  train  of  bishops,  nobles,  and  dig- 
nitaries of  state,  assisted  at  the  festival  of  the  Inquisition, 
and  the  fairest  and  noblest  women  of  Spain  filled  the  seats 
around  the  royal  gallery.  The  chief  officers  of  the  city  occu- 
pied conspicuous  places,  and  range  over  range  of  curious  citi- 
zens, dressed  in  their  richest  attire,  looked  on,  an  uncounted 
multitude,  and  filled  every  seat  in  the  immense  amphitheatre. 
But  in  a  plainer  gallery,  placed  so  as  to  be  easily  seen  by  all 
that  devout  throng,  were  gathered  a  pallid  and  feeble  company 
of  the  elect.  Their  yellow  robes,  tlieir  sordid  dress,  their  gro- 
tesque and  terrible  decorations,  marked  them  as  the  enemies 
of  the  Church,  and  the  victims  of  the  proud  and  great.  One 
was  the  Lutheran  pastor  of  Yalladolicl,  who  had  ministered  in 
secret  to  his  humble  flock,  who  had  pined  for  a  year  in  the 
dungeons  of  the  Inquisition,  but  whose  constancy  had  never 
wavered,  and  who  now  came  forth  with  holy  joy  to  endure  the 
pains  of  martyrdom.  May  the  name  of  Don  Carlo  di  Sesso 
forever  live  in  the  memory  of  the  just,  when  the  splendid  host 
of  his  royal  and  priestly  persecutors  have  sunk  beneath  the  ab- 
horrence of  posterity  !  With  a  gag  in  his  mouth,  he  sat  unter- 
rified  before  his  destroyers.  Some  had  wavered,  but  had  not 
been  forgiven.  Fourteen  in  the  fatal  gallery  were  destined 
to  the  stake.  One  was  a  nun,  a  woman,  gentle,  high-born,  and 
pure.  She  had  adopted  the  opinions  of  Luther,  had  been  shut 
up  in  fearful  dungeons,  and  stretched  upon  the  rack.  She  had 
confessed  her  errors,  and  her  powerful  relatives  strove  to  save 
her  life  ;  but  she  was  a  nun,  and  the  Inquisitors  asserted  that 
her  guilt  could  only  be  expiated  by  fire ;  and  the  fair  and  gen- 
tle woman  perished  with  the  rest. 

(')  Lloreute,  ii.,  p.  234. 


ITALY  FBOTESTAXT.  387 

A  bishop  ascended  the  pulpit  and  preached  a  sennon  full  of 
bitter  denunciations  of  the  helpless  heretics ;  the  sentences 
were  read,  a  solemn  miserere  swelled  over  the  vast  assembly, 
and  the  king,  with  his  guards,  followed  the  condemned  as  they 
were  led  away  to  the  place  of  burning.  Here  Philip,  the  Nero 
of  his  age,  liis  vices  notorious,  his  crimes  unpardonable,  looked 
on  with  cruel  joy  and  untiring  zeal  until  the  last  of  the  mar- 
tyrs had  been  burned,  and  nothing  remained  of  the  holy  pastor 
or  the  gentle  nun,  and  all  their  sad  society,  but  a  heap  of  ashes. 

Italy,  soon  after  the  advent  of  Luther,  was  threatened,  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  by  the  fearful  spectre  of  modern  civiliza- 
tion.(')  The  Pope  trembled  on  his  throne.  The  German  Eef- 
ormation  seemed  about  to  swell  hi  disastrous  inundations  over 
the  Alps.  Academies  of  science  and  letters  had  grown  up  at 
Modena  or  Turin,  whose  gifted  members  were  known  to  hold 
opinions  not  far  removed  from  those  of  Calvin  or  St.  Paul. 
Literature  and  science  stood  on  the  side  of  reformation ;  the 
new  books  of  the  day  were  often  unsound  in  doctrine,  and  elo- 
quent for  progress.  The  Lutheran  theories  had  penetrated  the 
cloister,  and  an  Augustine  monk  preached  heresies  at  Eome. 
The  papacy  must  have  fallen  had  not  Ignatius  Loyola  stood 
at  the  side  of  the  trembling  Paul,  inspired  him  with  a  stern 
audacity,  and  painted  to  his  fancy  a  magnificent  vision  of  the 
renewed  Church  ruling  over  the  East  and  the  West,  proclaim- 
ing its  own  infallibility,  and  crushing  heresy  by  fire  and  sword. 

Loyola,  the  Dominic  of  the  sixteenth  century,  had  revolved 
in  his  dull  and  clouded  intellect,  but  ever  fearless  and  ad- 
venturous, a  project  for  assailing  the  central  defenses  of  mod- 
ern civilization,  and  crushing  it  by  its  own  arts.  AVhy,  he 
meditated,  might  not  the  discoveries  of  science  and  the  gen- 
ius of  letters  be  condemned  to  labor  for  the  propagation  of 
the  Church  and  the  defense  of  infallibility  ?  Why  could  not 
learning,  wit,  philosophy,  progress,  be  concentrated  in  his  own 


(')  M'Crie,  Eeformation  in  Italy,  p.  372.  A  letter  from  Rome  shows  that 
a  large  part  of  the  Eomans  sympathized  with  Luther.  For  the  reformers 
of  Naples,  see  Life  of  Jnau  Valdes,  Betts,  p.  106-109;  and  the  Alfabeto 
Christiauo,  Eeformistas  Aut.  Esp.,  tome  xv. 


388  DOMINIC  AXD   THE  IXQUISITIOX. 

society,  while  all  the  outer  world  lay  eclipsed  in  darkness? 
"Why  might  not  the  intellect  of  tlie  Jesuits  rule  mankind,  and 
heap  contempt  upon  all  those  inferior  spirits  who  were  too 
faintly  educated  to  discover  the  divine  power  of  the  infallible 
Church  ?  He  would  seize  upon  education  and  the  free  school, 
as  Dominic  had  seized  upon  the  pulpit,  and  make  his  compa- 
ny a  society  of  teachers.  But  to  the  free  school  he  would  also 
join  the  Inquisition.  The  example  of  Spain,  where  heresy 
had  swiftly  decayed  under  the  rigid  rule  of  Torquemada,  show- 
ed how  admirable  was  the  remedy  of  Dominic,  how  speedy  its 
operation.  The  Spanish  Inquisition  must  be  enlarged  to  em- 
brace all  mankind.  Its  centre  should  be  Rome,  the  Pope  the 
Chief  Inquisitor.  The  Society  of  the  Jesuits  should  go  forth 
on  their  missionary  labors  holding  in  one  hand  the  sword  of 
St.  Peter,  and  in  the  other  the  sceptre  of  mental  supremacy ; 
and,  by  an  incongruous  union  of  education  and  the  auto-da- 
fe,  must  modern  civilization  be  reduced  to  subjection,  and 
made  the  firm  ally  of  the  Moloch  he  would  erect  at  Eome. 

From  tlie  suggestions  of  Loyola  grew  up,  in  1542,  the  Eo- 
man  Inquisition.Q  It  was  controlled  by  six  cardinals,  the 
most  active  of  the  sacred  college,  who  were  empowered  to  de- 
stroy the  heretic  wherever  he  could  be  found.  No  mercy  was 
to  be  shown  to  the  enemy  of  the  Church  and  of  Heaven.  The 
punishments  were  to  be  speedy,  the  sentences  without  reprieve. 
A  doubtful  word,  a  hesitating  assent,  were  held  to  be  sufficient 
proofs  of  guilt ;  and  it  was  made  the  duty  of  every  devout 
Catholic  to  inform  against  his  relatives,  his  neighbors,  and  his 
friend.  A  house  was  at  once  hired  at  Rome  for  the  meetings 
of  the  tribunal,  instruments  of  torture  were  provided,  and  a 
modest  beginning  was  made  by  the  burning  of  several  her- 
etics before  the  graceful  Church  of  Santa  Maria.(')  The  Pope 
and  the  college  of  cardinals  often  attended  the  executions,  and 
watched  with  approving  countenances  the  final  doom  of  the 


(')  Ranke,  Popes,  i.,  p.  157,  is  inclined  to  lessen  Loyola's  share  in  tbe 
honor  of  erecting  the  new  tribunal,  but  the  Jesuits  claim  for  him  the  chief 
part. 

C)  For  various  executions,  see  M'Crie,  p.  278-284. 


ITALY  SUBDUED.  389 

impenitent.  But,  as  the  labors  of  the  Inquisitors  increased 
with  the  rigor  of  their  search,  a  larger  building  was  demanded, 
and  new  implements  for  their  dreadful  trade.  The  people  of 
Rome,  in  a  wild  tempest  of  rage,  broke  down  the  gates  of  the 
first  prisons  and  set  them  on  fire.  At  length,  to  defy  their 
malice,  in  1569,  was  completed  that  grand  and  sombre  palace 
of  the  Inquisition,  within  whose  dreadful  cells  a  long  line 
of  illustrious  Italians  have  suffered  or  died ;  whose  massive 
walls  and  Cyclopean  architecture  for  three  centuries  filled  the 
minds  of  the  helpless  Romans  with  awe  or  hate ;  and  whose 
dungeons,  pitfalls,  and  secret  machinery  have  but  recently 
been  exposed,  by  a  happy  revolution,  to  the  light  of  modern 
civilization.(')  The  Pope,  Pius  V.,  now  assumed  the  title  of 
Supreme  Inquisitor.  The  successors  of  St.  Peter  have  never 
ceased  to  hold  that  eminent  position ;  and  it  is  the  duty,  the 
right,  and  perhaps  the  desire  of  Pius  IX.,  as  it  was  once  of 
Pius  v.,  to  inflict  upon  every  heretic  the  remedial  pains  of  the 
holy  tribunal. 

Consternation  filled  all  Italy  as  the  ministers  of  the  new 
tribunal  penetrated  into  every  city  and  village,  and  struck 
down 'their  victims  with  relentless  speed.Q  Every  day  at 
Rome,  in  1568,  a  heretic  died ;  the  jails  were  filled  with  the 
suspected ;  in  the  rural  districts  great  numbers  of  Protestants 
were  seen  making  their  way  toward  the  Alps.  The  Inquisitors 
hunted  their  flying  victims  with  unequaled  success ;  men  of 
science,  of  letters,  and  of  elegant  cultivation,  fled  from  Italy  to 
the  shelter  of  the  North.  The  academies  of  Modena  and  Turin 
were  silenced  or  dissolved,  and  Venice  lamented  in  silence  the 
loss  of  its  industrious  heretics  and  the  ruin  of  its  prosperity. 
It  is  quite  impossible,  indeed,  to  estimate  too  highly  the  woes 
inflicted  upon  Italy  and  upon  mankind,  upon  letters,  science, 
and  the  industrial  arts,  by  the  series  of  Popes  who,  as  Supreme 
Inquisitors,  struck  down  the  most  eminent  men  of  their  age, 


(')  The  building  was  partly  destroyed  in  1808,  and  another  built  in  1825. 

(*)  Ranke,  Popes,  Inquisition,  gives  some  of  the  details.  See  Reformistas 
Antigiios  Espanoles,  tome  xv.,  Int.,  p.  xssv.  el  seq.  Carnessechi,  the  friend 
of  Vald^s,  was  one  of  the  victims. 


390  DOMINIC  AND   THE  INQUISITION. 

and  aroused  throughout  Europe  the  flames  of  religious  strife ; 
who  burned  a  Bruno,  persecuted  a  Galileo ;  and  who  taught 
the  half -savage  Europeans  to  extirpate  the  Huguenots  in 
Erance,  and  chase  the  Hollanders  to  the  walls  of  Leyden.  As 
Supreme  Inquisitors  the  Popes  have  never  ceased  to  inculcate 
the  destruction  of  the  heretic,  and  the  high  privilege  is  still 
openly  claimed  by  the  last  Pope  and  the  last  council  of  sup- 
pressing heresy  by  force. 

Generations  have  lamented  with  vain  regret  and  useless  in- 
dignation the  dark  cloud  of  sorrow  and  shame  that  fell  upon 
the  illustrious  old  age  of  him,  the  glory  of  modern  science, 
who  first  unfolded  the  machinery  of  the  heavens ;  who  opened 
to  mankind  the  magnificent  scenery  of  the  skies ;  who  pierced 
the  spacious  firmament,  and  revealed  the  most  wonderful  of 
the  works  of  God.  The  greatest,  and  perhaps  the  wisest,  of 
all  the  victims  of  the  Holy  Oflice  was  Galileo  Galilei. (')  He 
was  born  at  Pisa,  in  1564,  when  the  rigor  of  the  Inquisition 
was  just  beginning  to  crush  the  intellectual  energy  of  Italy. 
He  gave  himself  to  scientific  studies,  and  was  early  renowned 
over  Europe  as  the  most  active  of  discoverers.  He  was  made 
professor  at  Pisa,  Padua,  and  Florence ;  his  lectures  were  at- 
tended by  archdukes  and  princes,  and  by  a  yet  more  noble 
band  of  ardent  disciples ;  his  generosity  to  his  mother,  his  sis- 
ters, and  his  friends  kept  him  poor ;  yet  he  was  constantly 
covered  with  honors  and  emoluments,  and  his  incessant  labors 
were  ever  rewarded  by  discoveries  in  almost  every  branch  of 
science. 

To  crown  his  prosperity  and  complete  the  splendor  of  his 
renown,  Galileo,  in  1609,  chanced  upon  one  of  those  inventions 
that  in  all  the  annals  of  science  have  most  struck  the  imao-ina- 
tions  of  men.  He  had  invented  the  telescope.  The  wonder- 
ful instrument,  even  in  its  infancy,  delighted  and  astonislied 
his  age.  Europe  lavished  its  honors  and  its  applause  upon 
the  Tuscan  artist,  who  had  given  to  his  race  new  fields  of 
knowledge  and  a  boundless  realm  of  speculation.  The  sena- 
tors and  nobles  of  Venice  climbed  their  liighest  campaniles,  and 

(')  Nelli,  Vita  del  Galileo :  Tirabosclii,  p.  8. 


GALILEO.  391 

saw  througli  Galileo's  telescope  distant  islands  and  shores,  that 
had  never  been  visible  before,  approach  and  grow  distinct,  and 
watched  their  galleys,  laden  with  the  wealth  of  commerce,  ad- 
vance and  recede  far  down  the  Adriatic.Q  The  merchants  of 
the  City  of  the  Sea  felt  at  once  the  priceless  value  of  the  in- 
vention. But  when  Galileo  turned  his  telescope  to  the  heav- 
ens, a  new  series  of  discoveries  broke  suddenly  upon  his  fancy, 
so  unlooked  for  and  so  entrancing  as  have  fallen  to  the  lot  of 
no  other  man.  The  moon  revealed  the  rivers  and  mountains 
on  her  spotty  globe — her  caverns  and  volcanoes,  her  arid  plains 
and  dusky  hollows ;  planets  were  seen  for  the  first  time  encir- 
cled by  their  attendant  moons ;(')  the  Milky-Way  dissolved  into 
countless  stars  ;  the  tangled  threads  of  the  Pleiades  were  swift- 
ly unraveled ;  and  the  huge  orb  of  Saturn,  the  giant  of  the 
planets,  appeared  belted  by  its  luminous  rings,  and  covered 
with  exterior  veils  of  glory.  The  majestic  depths  of  the  heav- 
ens, never  before  pierced  by  mortal  eye,  were  found  swarming 
with  hosts  of  stars  and  radiant  with  islands  of  light ;  and  the 
magnificent  vision  which  had  filled  the  fancy  of  the  Hebrew 
poet  with  a  sense  of  his  own  insignificance  and  of  the  omnip- 
otence of  his  Creator,  was  adorned  with  a  thousand  novel  beau- 
ties and  sui-passing  wonders  at  the  touch  of  Galileo. 

The  philosopher  could  little  have  foreseen  the  dangers  that 
surrounded  him  in  the  moment  of  his  unprecedented  success. 
He  heard  calmly  the  applauses  of  Em-ope,  and  modestly  re- 
ceived the  honors  heaped  upon  him.  Animated  by  the  favor 
of  his  age,  he  pursued  his  researches  with  ceaseless  ardor,  and 
added  each  year  to  the  sum  of  human  knowledge.  He  strove 
to  penetrate  the  secret  of  the  heavens ;  to  separate  into  accu- 
rate divisions  its  grand  machinery,  and  fix  the  place,  the  or- 
bit, and  the  aim  of  suns  and  planets.  At  length  the  theo- 
ry, which  had  been  suggested  by  Copernicus,  but  which  was 
proved  alone  by  his  own  discoveries,  and  made  intelligible  by 


(')  Nelli,  Vita  del  Galileo,  i.,  \).  165.  The  invention  is  claimed  for  the 
Dutch  and  the  Jesuits.  "  Sparsasi  la  fama  uella  Veneta  metropoli  di  es- 
sere  stata  construita  questa  inacchina,"  etc.,  i.,  i>p.  165, 166. 

(^)  Nelli,  i.,  p.  199, 


392  DOMINIC  AND  THE  INQUISITION. 

his  clear  argument,  was  announced  to  the  world,  and  Galileo 
declared  that  the  solid  earth  was  ever  in  motion,  circling  round 
the  sun.Q  "  It  moves !"  he  cried,  with  boundless  ardor ;  and 
men  listened  to  him  with  astonishment,  awe,  and  doubt. 

Few,  indeed,  in  the  dawn  of  the  seventeenth  century,  were 
willing  to  receive  the  revelation  of  the  Tuscan  artist,  or  to  ac- 
cept that  principle  which  was  to  form  the  elementary  faith  of 
modern  science,  which  was  to  become  as  familiar  to  civilized 
man  as  his  alphabet,  by  which  suns  were  to  be  measured,  plan- 
ets weighed,  and  comets  tracked  in  their  wild  flight  through 
unbounded  space ;  which  was  to  fire  the  genius  of  a  Newton 
and  a  Herschel,  and  conduct  the  minds  of  men  to  a  familiar 
acquaintance  with  the  skies.  Who  could  believe  that  the  solid 
globe,  with  its  mountains  and  seas,  its  mighty  empires,  and  its 
busy  tenants,  was  ever  rushing  swiftly  around  its  immovable 
sun  ?  Every  sense  seemed  to  contradict  the  announcement  of 
science.  Sight  taught  that  the  heavens  moved  around  the 
earth ;  none  felt  the  tremor  of  incessant  motion  ;  no  ear  could 
catch  the  music  of  the  spheres.  Ignorance  derided  the  new 
theory ;  philosophers  of  the  Ptolemaic  school  opposed  it  with 
vigorous  arguments ;  and  truth  seemed  about  to  die  out  in  the 
clamor  of  the  multitude  and  the  hostilitv  of  rival  sects. 

Galileo  might  have  despised  or  pitied  the  violence  of  his  sci- 
entific foes,  but  he  soon  found  himself  drawn  within  the  toils 
of  that  secret  tribunal  which  aspired  to  hold  in  check  the  pro- 
gressive thought  of  Italy.  In  his  scientific  enthusiasm  the 
philosopher  had  uttered  heresy.  A  fierce  Dominican,  in  a  la- 
bored essay,  detected  the  unpardonable  error.  It  was  heresy 
to  say  that  the  earth  moves.  The  infallible  Church  had  de-. 
Glared  that  it  stood  still. (")  How  could  a  vain  philosopher  pre- 
sume to  know  more  than  Popes,  councils,  fathers,  who  had  all 
strictly  maintained  the  Ptolemaic  theory  ?  Such  presumption 
could  not  be  borne,  and  Galileo  was  summoned  by  the  Inquis- 
itors before  the  tribunal  of  Rome.  It  is  possible  that  some 
trace  of  shame,  some  fear  of  peipetual  infamy,  the  aid  of  his 
royal  friends,  and  the  compassion  of  the  Pope,  may  have  led 

(■)  Tiraboscbi,  viii.,  p.  190.  («)  Nelli,  i.,  p.  9G. 


GALILEO'S  CRIME.  393 

the  congregation  of  cardinals  to  soften  the  pains  inflicted  upon 
their  ilhistrious  prisoner,  and  they  only  demanded  that  he 
should  abandon  forever  the  fearful  heresy  of  Copernicus.  He 
consented,  abjured  his  scientific  errors,  and  was  admitted  once 
more  to  the  bosom  of  the  Church.  Yet  he  must  have  felt  his 
degradation  keenly ;  and  his  firm  and  manly  intellect,  buoy- 
ant and  ever  joyous,  could  only  have  recovered  slowly  from 
its  subjection  and  dishonor. 

Fourteen  years  roiled  away  in  ceaseless  study.  The  pros- 
perous manhood  of  Galileo  declined  into  feeble  old  age.  His 
hair  and  beard  were  white  as  snow ;  his  eyes,  that  had  first 
pierced  the  depths  of  the  heavens,  were  growing  dim ;  his 
health  decayed,  and  he  was  often  prostrated  by  disease.  (') 
Poverty,  too,  had  come  upon  him  in  his  old  age,  and  his  sal- 
ary was  taken  away.  His  generosity,  that  had  never  failed, 
had  left  him  little  for  his  own  support.  Yet  his  cheerful  and 
active  intellect  was  still  fertile  in  resources,  and  he  had  amused 
the  decline  of  life  by  enlarging  and  perfecting  his  theory  of 
the  skies ;  truth  ever  grew  more  dear  to  him ;  the  prospect  of 
immortal  renown  blinded  him  to  his  danger,  and  he  resolved  to 
proclaim  once  more,  in  defiance  of  the  Pope,  the  Church,  and 
the  Inquisition,  the  unchangeable  law  of  the  solar  system.f ) 
He  composed  those  graceful  and  witty  dialogues  in  which  the 
acute  Salviati  and  Sagredo  rally  the  dull  Simplicio  on  his  be- 
lief in  the  antiquated  errors  of  Ptolemy,  and  gave  them  (1632), 
with  wide  applause,  to  the  Italian  public. 

Horror  and  indignation  awoke  in  the  breasts  of  the  Holy 
Inquisitors  when  they  discovered  the  design  of  the  popular 
book ;  and  Pope  Urban  VIIL,  who  was  thought  to  be  intend- 
ed in  the  character  of  Simplicio,  was  filled  with  senile  rage. 
The  Jesuits,  who  had  envied  the  scientific  glory  of  Galileo, 
pressed  for  his  destruction ;  the  Dominicans  pursued  him  with 
unsparing  denunciations.  He  was  summoned  to  Rome  to  un- 
dergo the  penalty  of  heresy.  Faint  and  feeble,  Galileo  left 
his  favorite  home  at  Florence,  the  scene  of  his  joys  and  his 

(')  Nelli's  portrait  of  Galileo  sbows  the  effect  of  age. 
(=)  Nelli,  ii.,  p.  512. 


394  DOMINIC  AND   THE  IXQUISITIOX. 

triimiplis,  and,  weighed  down  by  sickness  and  misfortune,  be- 
came the  prisoner  of  the  Koman  Inquisition.  His  confine- 
ment was  not  severe,  yet  he  grew  weary  and  sad.  He  was 
brought  before  the  holy  tribunal  and  condemned,  after  a  vain 
defense ;  his  sentence  was  read  to  him  on  a  memorable  day, 
when  the  assembled  Inquisitors  sat  in  their  high  tribunal,  full 
of  empty  pride,  and  the  great  philosopher,  clothed  in  a  peni- 
tential garb,  knelt  humbly  at  their  feet.  It  was  the  triumph 
of  ignorance  and  folly  over  the  humiliation  of  one  of  the  most 
eminent  of  his  race. 

His  sentence  was  still  to  be  fulfilled.  A  series  of  ridiculous 
and  degrading  punishments  was  imposed  upon  Galileo  by  the 
silly  and  ignorant  priests.  He  was  to  abjure  his  heresy  in  the 
presence  of  the  cardinals ;  to  retract  all  that  was  said  in  his 
book;  to  promise  that  he  would  never  more  assert  that  the 
earth  moved  around  the  sun ;  to  be  imprisoned  in  the  cells 
of  the  Holy  House ;  to  recite  weekly  the  Seven  Penitential 
Psalms ;  and  to  remain  for  the  rest  of  his  life  under  the  watch- 
ful care  of  the  Inquisition.  Once  more  the  dull  and  malicious 
cardinals  sat  on  their  thrones  of  state,  while  Galileo,  clothed  in 
sackcloth,  was  led  in  a  prisoner,  his  illustrious  head  bowed  in 
penitence,  his  mighty  spirit  touched  by  remorse  and  shame. 
He  knelt,  and,  placing  his  hand  on  a  copy  of  the  Evangelists, 
declared  that  he  would  never  more  assert  the  motion  of  the 
earth.  Thus  was  Science  dishonored  by  Popes  and  priests  in 
the  person  of  her  immortal  son.  Yet  tradition  relates  that, 
as  the  venerable  philosopher  rose  from  his  knees,  he  was  heard 
to  murmur,  "  But  it  moves,  nevertheless."  He  was  imprison- 
ed for  a  few  days  in  the  Inquisition,  and  was  then  carried  to 
Arcetri,  near  Florence,  where  he  was  held  a  prisoner  for  five 
years.  He  became  totally  blind  in  1637,  his  health  having  de- 
clined in  his  captivity ;  and  at  length  he  died,  in  1042,  at  the 
age  of  seventy-seven.  The  malice  of  the  holy  tribunal  pursued 
him  even  after  his  death,  and  his  remains  were  scarcely  suf- 
fered to  be  interred  in  consecrated  ground.  They  were  hid- 
den, at  last,  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  Church  of  Santa  Croce, 
at  Florence,  and  were  left  without  a  monument  to  indicate 
the  place  where  slept  the  greatest  genius  of  his  age. 


TEE  FIRST  AERONAUT.  395 

Amidst  the  storm  of  ridicule  and  reproaeli  with  which  pos- 
terity has  overwhelmed  the  infallible  Church  for  denying  that 
the  earth  moves,  and  for  inflicting  its  rigorous  pains  upon  the 
aged  and  illustrious  Galileo,  Tiraboschi,  the  Jesuit,  with  the 
ingenuity  of  his  order,  suggests  a  casuistical  defense.(')  It 
was  the  Inquisition,  he  says,  that  denied  the  axiom  of  sci- 
ence; but  the  Inquisition  is  not  infallible,  and  the  Church 
does  not  consent  to  be  bound  by  its  decisions.  Yet,  if  the 
Pope,  as  Supreme  Inquisitor,  may  enforce  opinions  in  science 
or  morals  that  are  untrue,  how  can  we  be  sure  that  he  is  in- 
fallible when  he  acts  in  any  other  capacity  ?  If  he  asserts  it 
to  be  the  doctrine  of  the  Church  that  the  earth  does  not  move 
around  the  sun,  either  he  fails  in  interpreting  the  opinion  of 
his  predecessors,  or  he  declares  the  Church  to  believe  what 
observation  has  shown  to  be  false.  In  either  case  infallibility 
sinks  before  the  light  of  science.  Galileo's  doctrine  survived 
his  abjuration  and  his  death,  and  the  name  of  the  martyr  of 
the  Inquisition  is  written  among  the  stars. 

In  another  branch  of  science  the  holy  tribunal  was  scarcely 
more  successful.  A  learned  Jesuit  in  the  seventeenth  centu- 
ry first  suggested  the  method  of  ascending  the  air  in  balloons ; 
another,  Bartolomeo  Gusmao,  toward  the  close  of  the  century, 
seems  nearly  to  have  succeeded  in  the  design.  He  had  seen 
in  Brazil  light  vegetable  substances  of  a  spherical  shape  float 
in  the  air,  and  imitated  them  in  paper  balloons  fllled  with  gas. 
At  length  he  formed  a  larger  one,  and,  having  come  to  Lis- 
bon, proposed  to  ascend  himself  in  the  presence  of  the  people. 
Amidst  a  wondering  multitude  he  sent  up  one  of  his  balloons, 
the  first,  perhaps,  that  had  ever  been  seen,  and  •  assured  his 
friends  that  there  was  no  danger  nor  difliculty  in  navigating 
the  air.(^)  He  even  offered  to  carry  the  Grand  Inquisitor  and 
all  the  holy  tribunal  with  him  on  his  adventurous  journey ; 
but  the  clergy  shuddered  at  the  impious  attempt  to  defy  the 

(')  Tiraboschi,  viii.,  p.  177  :  "Ma  riflettero  solamente  che  il  Galileo  non 
fu  coudanDato  nfe  dalla  chiesa  universale,  uh  dalla  Eomaua,  ma  solo  dal 
tribuuale  della  Inquisizione."  The  ex-Jesuit  had  not  forgotteu  his  casu- 
istry. 

C)  Crdtineau-Joly,  Compagnie  de  Jdsus,  iv.,  p.  318. 


396  DOMINIC  AXD  THE  INQUISITION. 

laws  of  nature ;  the  IIolj  Office  resolved  to  interfere.  The 
Inquisitors  were  convinced  that  the  ingenious  Jesuit  was  pos- 
sessed by  an  evil  spirit ;  that  Satan  alone  could  have  invented 
the  stransce  machine.  Gusraao  was  seized  and  thrown  into 
one  of  the  deepest  cells  of  the  Holy  House,  and  vainly  strove 
to  persuade  his  persecutors  that  his  invention  was  opposed  to 
none  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Church.  His  arguments  were  re- 
jected as  frivolous.  The  Church  condemned  the  balloon  ;  and 
the  ambitious  aeronaut,  after  lingering  some  time  in  confine- 
ment, was  set  free  at  the  solicitation  of  his  fellow-Jesuits,  fled 
to  Spain  about  the  year  1700,  and  seems  never  to  have  again 
attempted  to  navigate  the  air. 

Between  the  magicians  and  sorcerers  of  the  Middle  Ages 
and  the  acute  Inquisitors  a  long  contest  raged,  and  all  the  gen- 
tle solicitude  and  the  medicinal  pains  of  the  Holy  Oflice  were 
employed  in  vain  in  extirpating  the  ever-increasing  host  of  the 
servants  of  Satan.(')  Tlie  magician  of  the  Inquisition  was  a 
being  sufiiciently  portentous.  He  was  invested  with  all  the 
learning  of  the  time.  He  had  studied  alchemy,  geometry,  and 
mathematics  in  the  schools  of  the  Arabs.  He  could  raise  the 
spirits  of  the  lower  world,  and  call  the  dead  from  the  grave, 
the  demon  from  the  abyss.  In  some  dark  and  subterranean 
vault,  hung  with  black,  in  a  lonely  wood  or  torrid  desert,  or 
amidst  the  ruins  of  an  abbey  or  a  castle,  the  magician  stood  at 
midnight,  clothed  in  an  ephod  of  white  linen,  and  an  exterior 
robe  of  black  bombazine  sweeping  the  ground.  His  faithful 
assistant  was  at  his  side.  A  storm  of  thunder  and  shai-p  light- 
ning raged  above  as  he  traced  around  him  his  magic  circle,  in- 
scribing it  with  triangles  and  crosses,  and  marking  it  with  hal- 
lowed names.  The  circle  was  his  only  safeguard  against  the 
raging  band  of  demons.  He  stepped  within  the  safe  pre- 
cinct, and,  holding  a  Hebrew  Bible  in  his  hand,  began  to  mut- 
ter his  most  powerful  incantations.  Wild  cries  and  fearful 
noises  soon  arose ;  flashes  of  fire  and  tremblings  of  the  earth 
announced  the  approach  of  the  Satanic  company.^ )    The  magic 

(•)Llorente,ii.,p.40-61. 

C)  Del  Rio,  Disqnisitiones  Magicse.  The  learned  Jesuit  gives  ample  de- 
tails of  the  magic  art. 


ITALY  AND   SPAIN  DECAY.  397 

circle  was  surrounded  by  spirits  in  the  shapes  of  savage  lions 
and  tigers,  vomiting  flames,  and  struggling  to  devour  their  im- 
passive master.  He  must  remain  calm  and  without  a  tremor, 
or  he  would  fall  a  victim  to  the  malicious  beings  he  had  sum- 
moned ;  he  must  awe  them  into  obedience.  When  they  found 
that  they  could  not  alarm  him,  the  spirits  assumed  graceful 
and  enticing  forms,  and  strove  to  deceive  him  into  confidence. 
But  the  skillful  magician  knew  that  they  were  as  false  and  ma- 
licious as  they  were  cruel,  and  looked  upon  them  with  stern  and 
self-respecting  eyes.  He  laid  on  them  his  commands ;  forced 
them  to  fly  over  land  and  sea,  mountains  and  deserts,  to  do 
his  bidding,  and  only  ventured  to  step  beyond  his  magic  circle 
when  the  last  shriek  of  the  demon  host  had  died  on  the  mid- 
night air.  But  the  harmless  pretender  often  found  himself  in 
the  hands  of  the  familiars  of  the  Inquisition,  no  less  treacher- 
ous and  cruel  than  the  spirits  they  imagined  and  described. 
For  centuries  the  dungeons  of  the  Holy  Oflice  were  filled  with 
sorcerers  and  witches.  And  when  the  belief  in  the  occult  arts 
had  long  ceased  in  other  lands,  an  unlucky  sorceress  was  burn- 
ed, in  1T80,  by  the  Spanish  Inquisition. 

Thus  in  the  sixteenth  century  was  the  tide  of  modern  civ- 
ilization rolled  back  from  Italy  and  Spain,  and  every  trace  of 
resistance  to  the  papal  power  had  disappeared  before  the  iron 
rule  of  the  disciples  of  Dominic  and  Loyola.  A  new  ambition 
inspired  the  Supreme  Inquisitor,  the  Jesuits,  and  Philip  of 
Spain :  encouraged  by  their  unquestioned  triumph,  they  now 
proposed  to  extii-pate  the  heretics  of  Germany  and  France, 
and  bring  back  rebellious  England  to  a  modest  submission  to 
the  ancient  faith. 

How  nearly  this  design  had  succeeded,  how  almost  resistless 
was  the  progress  of  the  Inquisition  and  of  the  papal  armies  in 
the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  can  scarcely  be  reviewed 
without  a  shudder  by  the  historical  inquirer  who  remembers 
the  fate  of  all  Southern  Europe  under  the  remorseless  rule  of 
its  oppressors.  That  England,  Germany,  and  the  Scandinavian 
kingdoms  escaped  the  doom  of  Italy  and  Spain,  is  one  of  the 
marvels  of  history.  The  Popes  deposed  Elizabeth,  absolved 
her  subjects  from  their  allegiance,  and  aimed  the  assassin's 


398  DOMINIC  AND  THE  INQUISITION. 

dagger  at  the  heart  of  the  courageous  queen.  Had  she  fallen, 
Mary  of  Scotland  might  have  ascended  the  vacant  throne,  and 
the  armies  of  Philip  have  swept  over  the  divided  land.  En- 
gland, already  half  Catholic,  and  torn  by  civil  discord,  must 
have  made  a  bold  but  useless  resistance  to  the  superior  skill  of 
the  Prince  of  Parma  and  his  well-trained  troops.  France  in 
this  ominous  period  was  striving  to  destroy  the  Huguenots ; 
and  the  Holy  League  and  the  Catholic  princes  were  eager  to 
enforce  the  principles  of  Dominic  and  Loyola  tlu'oughout  all 
their  bleeding  country.  Supine  and  enfeebled,  the  German 
Protestants  awaited  that  storm  of  ruin  which  the  vigor  of 
Wallenstein  was  soon  to  let  loose  upon  the  whole  region,  from 
the  Danube  to  the  Baltic  coast.  The  war  in  the  Netherlands 
was  raging  with  unexampled  horrors ;  the  Inquisition  was  tri- 
umphant over  the  deserted  ruins  of  Antwei"p,  and  the  silent 
streets  of  Brussels  and  Ghent ;  and  Holland,  the  last  fortress 
of  European  civilization,  had  Elizabeth  died  or  the  League  been 
successful,  must  have  sunk  forever  in  despotism  and  oblivion. 
Of  all  the  disastrous  wars  of  this  unhappy  age,  clouded  with 
human  calamity,  the  lessons  of  Dominic  and  the  zeal  of  the 
Liquisitors  were  the  primal  cause.  To  plant  the  Inquisition 
in  the  cities  of  the  Netherlands,  Philip  II.  employed  all  the 
resources  of  his  immense  empire,  and  all  the  remorseless  arts 
he  had  learned  in  the  schools  of  the  holy  tribunal.  He  was 
eager  to  celebrate  an  act  of  faith  in  Amsterdam  or  London, 
and  to  renew  the  favorite  spectacle  of  Valladolid  or  Seville  in 
lands  teeming  with  heretics,  and  filled  with  the  elements  of 
reform.  His  fanatical  passion  was  very  nearly  gratified.  He 
assassinated  William  of  Orange,  and  the  Prince  of  Parma 
pressed  successfully  upon  the  last  defenses  of  Holland.  More 
than  once  Philip  had  nearly  procured  the  death  of  Elizabeth 
of  England.  His  sliij^s  and  his  armies  threatened  to  bear  the 
rack  and  the  scourge  to  the  home  of  Shakspeare,  Bacon,  and 
Spenser.  Often  it  seemed  in  doubt  whether  England  might 
not  be  crushed  beneath  a  new  Torquemada,  and  its  Protestant 
population  perish  in  the  final  triumph  of  the  Inquisition. (') 

(')  It  is  shown  by  tlie  accurate  pictures  of  Motley  and  Froude  how  fee- 
ble were  the  defenses  of  England,  how  superior  the  resources  of  Spain. 


ENGLAND    UNDER  AN  INQUISITION.  399 

It  is  a  curious,  perhaps  an  instructive,  question  to  examine 
the  results  that  must  have  flowed  from  the  success  of  the  de- 
vout hopes  of  the  Popes  and  the  Inquisitors — an  inquiry  now 
as  practically  needless  as  the  question  of  the  Roman  histori- 
ans as  to  what  would  have  followed  had  Alexander  invaded 
Italy.  But  the  complete  subjection  of  Holland  and  England 
to  the  Supreme  Inquisitor  at  Rome  must  have  been  attended 
by  a  change  so  vast  in  the  condition  of  mankind  as  can  scarce- 
ly fail  to  arrest  curiosity ;  nor  can  it  be  doubted  that  it  would 
have  been  succeeded  by  a  limitless  period  of  decay.  The 
English  kings  must  have  followed  the  example  of  those  of 
France.  In  1600,  Henry  IV.  enforced  a  general  toleration, 
and  France  grew  in  industry  and  power.  In  1700,  his  de- 
scendant, Louis  XIY.,  had  become  his  own  Supreme  Inquisi- 
tor, and  expelled  the  working-classes  from  his  kingdom.  In- 
dolence, chivalry,  and  a  barbarous  passion  for  military  glory, 
made  France  the  terror  and  the  shame  of  Europe.  An  Inqui- 
sition ruling  in  London,  and  a  line  of  Catholic  kings  on  the 
English  throne,  must  have  destroyed  the  industry  of  the 
nation,  and  planted  the  elements  of  moral  and  mental  de- 
cay wherever  the  fleets  and  colonies  of  England  penetrated. 
Holy  houses  would  have  sprung  up  along  the  coasts  of  North 
America,  and  an  act  of  faith  might  still  have  formed  the  fa- 
vorite amusement  of  the  people  from  Labrador  to  Patagonia. 
The  chief  employment  of  governments  would  have  been  to 
crush  heresy;  of  the  mechanic,  to  invent  a  new  rack  or  a 
more  effectual  thimib-screw ;  of  the  author,  to  celebrate  the 
victories  of  infallibility ;  and  of  the  man  of  science,  to  defend 
the  miracles  and  the  doctrines  of  Dominic.  To  such  a  des- 
tiny were  the  people  of  Spain  and  Italy  condemned  in  the 
prosperous  period  of  the  holy  tribunal. 

But  England  and  Holland  repelled  the  armies  of  the  In- 
quisitors, and  preserved  their  narrow  territories  to  be  the 
birthplace  of  a  new  civilization.  It  was  the  terror  of  the  In- 
cpiisition  that  aroused  the  people  of  both  countries  to  their 
desperate  resistance.  In  England,  the  Puritans,  children  of 
industry  and  of  honest  thought,  gathered  around  their  queen, 
and  kept  the  wavering  Elizabeth  in  the  front  of  the  Protest- 


400  DOMINIC  AXD   THE  INQUISITION. 

ant  movement  of  the  age.  A  war  with  Spain  was  always  pop- 
ular ;  a  raid  on  Lisbon  or  Cadiz  enlisted  the  sympathy  of  men 
of  intellect  and  men  of  toil.  But  in  Holland  the  dread  of  the 
Inquisitors  and  the  horrors  of  the  Spanish  rule  awoke  to  a 
still  grander  heroism  a  people  singularly  calm  and  phlegmat- 
ic. "  Better  to  die  together,"  they  exclaimed,  "  than  to  sub- 
mit to  the  slow  ruin  entailed  by  the  holy  tribunal."  Indus- 
try and  intellect  rose  in  the  contest.  The  laboring  classes 
and  the  men  of  thought  flocked  to  the  free  cities  of  the  be- 
leaguered land ;  and,  amidst  the  perils  of  an  inexpiable  war, 
factories  and  work-shops  were  never  idle,  great  fleets  thronged 
the  ports  of  Amsterdam  and  Zeeland,  universities  were  found- 
ed, churches  flourished,  and  the  dismal  fens  and  wastes  of 
Holland  became  the  centre  of  the  highest  progress  of  the  age, 
because  they  had  driven  back  the  Inquisition. 

Discomfited  in  all  their  plans  of  conquest,  the  Inquisitors 
retreated  to  Italy  and  Spain,  and  here,  throughout  the  sev- 
enteenth century,  exercised  an  unparalleled  severity.  The 
passion  for  autos-dcc-fe  grew  in  strength  with  the  kings  and 
the  people,  and  each  Spanish  monarch  celebrated  his  accession 
to  the  throne  by  the  popular  spectacle.  At  the  great  act  of 
faith  in  1G80,  the  famous,  the  noble,  and  the  gay  attended. 
An  immense  concourse  of  people  assembled  in  the  galleries.(') 
The  king  looked  on  from  eight  in  the  morning,  with  devout 
interest,  until  the  last  rites  were  performed ;  and  it  was  ob- 
served, as  an  example  to  all  future  ages,  that  his  majesty  nei- 
ther withdrew  to  take  any  refreshment  nor  showed  any  signs 
of  weariness,  but  was  ever  cheerful  and  composed.  A  work 
was  published  describing  the  ceremony,  with  all  its  horrible 
details.  The  names  of  the  eminent  spectators  are  recorded, 
the  pious  zeal  of  the  king  celebrated  ;  and  the  author's  pro- 
duction is  commended  by  the  censors  of  the  press  as  worthy 
to  be  read,  not  only  in  Spain,  but  throughout  the  world.  So 
glorious  a  triumph  of  the  faith  ought  never  to  be  forgotten. 

From  the  year  1700  the  vigor  of  the  Inquisition  began  to 
decline.     Literature  aimed  its  sharpest  blows  at  the  institu- 

(')  Bourgoanne,  Travels  iu  Spain,  ch.  xiii. 


CONDITION  OF  SPAIN.  401 

tions  of  Dominic.  The  free  press,  which  it  had  striven  to 
destroy,  covered  the  secret  tribunal  with  ignominy,  and  de- 
nounced its  most  glorious  triumphs  as  more  savage  than  the 
wild  orgies  of  the  Carib.  Even  Spain  and  Italy  felt  the  ab- 
horrence of  mankind ;  the  acts  of  faith  no  longer  drew  ap- 
plauding crowds  at  Yalladolid  and  Seville;  the  bull -fight 
and  the  blood-stained  matadore  supplied  the  excitement  that 
had  once  followed  the  Inquisitor  and  his  victim ;  and  liberal 
priests  began  to  lament  the  fanatical  rage  that  had  covered 
their  Church  and  their  native  land  with  infamy.  Yet  the 
Holy  Office  still  defied  the  indignation  of  the  reformers,  and 
as  late  as  1763  heretics  were  burned  in  the  midst  of  Spanish 
civilization ;  the  Inquisition  still  ruled  with  a  mysterious  ter- 
ror over  the  minds  of  men ;  literature,  science,  and  invention 
still  withered  beneath  its  frown.  The  French  Eevolution  and 
Napoleon  swept  away  the  Inquisitors  and  the  holy  houses; 
they  were  restored  by  the  arms  of  Wellington  and  the  return 
of  the  old  dynasty.  In  1823,  a  Tribunal  of  Faith  punished 
heretics;  and  in  1856,  English  and  American  missionaries  were 
imprisoned  or  banished  by  the  Spanish  priests.(') 

Under  the  rule  of  its  native  Inquisitors,  Spain  sunk  into  a 
complete  decay.  Aragon,  in  the  last  century,  presented  a 
dreary  waste  of  deserted  hamlets  and  villages,  and  of  cities 
where  a  scanty  and  degraded  population  wandered  amidst  the 
ruins  of  former  opulence  and  grandeur.(^)  In  every  province 
the  same  spectacle  of  ruin  met  the  traveler's  eye.  Cordova, 
the  centre  of  Moorish  industry  and  taste,  once  teeming  with 
its  countless  artisans  and  scholars,  had  become  an  insignificant 
town,  abandoned  by  almost  every  trace  of  its  ancient  renown  ; 
but  its  w^onderful  cathedral,  the  mosque  of  Abd-er-Rahman, 
glorious  in  its  wilderness  of  jasper  and  marble  columns,  the  fair 
creations  of  the  Moorish  architects,  its  ruined  courts  filled  Avith 
groves  of  orange-trees,  shading  with  tangled  shrubbery  their 
sparkling  fountains,  its  immense  and  tarnished  exterior,  still 

(')  Rule,  Hist.  Inq.  Lloreute,  iv.,  p.  143,  saw  the  Inquisitiou  abolished  by 
Napoleon. 

{^)  Bourgoanne,  Travels  in  Spain,  vol.  iii.,  ch.  v. 

26 


402  DOMINIC  AND   THE  IXQUISITIOX. 

revived  the  memory  of  the  gifted  people  who  had  perished 
by  myriads  under  the  bitter  tyranny  of  the  Inquisition.  The 
rich  province  of  Granada  was  still  more  desolate.  Its  thin 
and  impoverished  population  starved  amidst  the  opulence  of 
natm-e — amidst  the  gentle  climate  and  prolific  soil  that  had 
once  nourished  the  countless  subjects  of  Bobadil,  and  where 
the  tall  mountains  covered  with  eternal  snow,  the  rich  valleys 
never  reached  by  the  torrid  heat,  the  torrents  of  limpid  water 
leaping  from  the  precipices  and  fertilizing  the  happy  plains, 
the  boundless  productiveness  of  fruit  and  flower,  seemed  to 
invite  the  hand  of  industry,  and  promise  perpetual  ease  to 
man.  Above  the  fair  but  solitary  scene  arose  the  Palace  of 
the  Alhambra,  almost  as  perfect  as  when  the  victorious  Span- 
iards first  entered  its  graceful  courts,  and  drove  into  exile  the 
Moorish  host.(*)  Seville,  from  whose  gates  four  hundred 
thousand  Moors  marched  out  at  the  entry  of  Ferdinand,  was 
now  languishing  in  a  feeble  decline — its  priceless  industries 
slowly  passing  away.  Such  was  the  Spain  of  the  Inquisition 
in  the  last  century,  and  such  it  had  almost  been  to-day. 

It  was  the  people  against  whom  the  Holy  Ofhce  had  aimed 
its  shai-pest  pains ;  it  is  the  people  who  have  at  length  swept 
it  from  their  path  of  progress.  Since  the  flight  of  its  queen 
and  the  fall  of  the  ancient  dynasty,  no  trace  of  the  Spanish 
Inquisition  lingers  in  the  land  of  its  birth ;  the  Bible,  for  the 
first  time,  is  freely  read  in  Valladolid  and  Seville ;  the  Lu- 
theran, the  Hebrew,  and  the  Morisco  may  wander  at  will  over 
the  scenes  where  the  great  acts  of  faith  were  celebrated,  and 
the  Protestant  missionaries  preach  to  attentive  audiences  on 
the  squares  where  their  spiritual  ancestors,  clad  in  yellow 
robes,  perished  amidst  the  clamor  of  rejoicing  priests.  The 
change  is  startling;  it  is  full  of  promise  for  the  people  of 
Spain ;  and  we  may  trust  that  freedom,  civilization,  and  prog- 
ress are  once  more  to  visit  the  peninsula  ;  that  with  the  death 
of  the  Spanish  Inquisition  the  factory  and  the  workshop,  free 


C)  Bourgoanne,  iii.,  ch.  v.,  describes  the  decline  of  Seville,  and  notices  the 
•waste  wealth  of  Granada.  Andersen  lias  painted  the  modern  aspect  of 
Granada  and  Cordova.     Travels  in  Spain,  ch.  ix. 


THE  ROMAN  INQUISITOBS.  403 

schools  and  colleges,  will  spring  np  amidst  the  ruins  of  Grana- 
da and  Cordova ;  and  that  Spain,  under  republican  institutions, 
may  enter  anew  on  that  path  of  progress  from  which  it  was 
turned  back  four  centuries  ago  by  the  flaming  sword  of  per- 
secution. 

We  have  no  space  to  follow  the  desolating  march  of  the 
Holy  OflSce  over  the  East  and  the  West ;  to  its  grim  and  fear- 
ful dungeons,  so  often  tilled  with  victims,  in  the  torrid  heats 
of  Portuguese  Goa;  to  the  acts  of  faith  of  Mexico  and  the 
calamities  of  Peru.  The  story  would  be  the  same  unvary- 
ing record  of  cruelty  and  crime.  It  would  be  easily  shown 
that  most  of  the  misfortunes  of  Latin  America  may  be  traced 
to  the  Inquisitor — the  decay  of  the  intellect,  the  barbarism  of 
the  people,  the  fall  of  a  vigorous  race.  The  revolutions  excited 
by  fanatical  priests  have  never  ceased  to  spread  anarchy 
throughout  Mexico  and  South  America,  and  the  Popes  at 
Pome  have  steadily  endeavored  to  overthrow  those  free  gov- 
ernments that  have  sprung  up  in  the  rebellious  colonies  of 
Catholic  Spain.  The  Supreme  Inquisitor  still  professes  to 
command  in  New  Granada  and  Peru.(') 

But  we  may  pause  to  sketch  briefly  the  fate  of  the  Poman 
congregation.  The  Popes  as  Supreme  Inquisitors  proved  wor- 
thy successors  of  Deza  and  Torquemada.  Throughout  the 
seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries  heresy  died  out  in  the 
Papal  States,  and  the  Italians  were  carefully  shielded  from 
the  growing  blight  of  modern  civilization.(')  The  Yaudois, 
whose  missionaries  had  stolen  into  the  patrimony  of  St.  Peter, 
were  nearly  lost  in  a  storm  of  persecution ;  the  Lutherans  fled 
to  the  hospitable  North;  literature  faded  into  dull  submis- 
sion, and  science  mourned  over  the  fate  of  Bruno  and  Galileo. 
One  of  the  most  eminent  scholars  of  his  age,  Giordano  Bruno, 
had  traveled  over  Europe,  and  had  returned  trusting  to  find  a 
safe  refuge  in  the  territories  of  republican  Venice.     He  was 


(')  Laurent,  Le  Catholicisine,  etc.,  p.  581 :  "  Mais  il  a  abrogd  eu  Ani«5ri(iue 
les  principes  et  les  maximes  qui  formeut  la  base  de  notre  droit  public." 
Pius  IX.  annulled  the  laws  of  Mexico  and  New  Granada,  see  p.  549. 

{■)  M'Crie. 


404  DOMINIC  AND   THE  INQUISITION. 

suspected  of  holding  heretical  opinions,  was  seized,  and  finally 
taken  to  Rome.  He  was  shut  up  in  the  new  prisons  of  Pius 
v.,  and  defended  his  faith  in  various  arguments  with  Bellar- 
min  and  the  congregation  of  cardinals.  Two  years  passed 
away.  The  cardinals  grew  weary  of  the  vigorous  controversy, 
and  the  poet,  scholar,  and  philosopher  was  condemned  to  deg- 
radation and  death.  In  February,  1600,  the  fagots  and  the 
flames  concluded  the  argument  with  a  signal  victory  for  the 
Church. 

From  1600  until  1808,  the  prisons  of  the  Inquisition,  sur- 
rounded by  a  terrible  mystery,  overshadowed  the  homes  of 
the  Romans.  Their  annals  are  lost,  their  records  destroyed. 
Ko  footsteps  crossed  their  awful  portals  but  those  of  the 
priests  who  administered  their  secret  punishments,  and  the 
victims  whose  silence  was  successfully  insured.  The  armies 
of  the  First  Napoleon  destroyed  them,  at  least  in  part ;  they 
were  renewed  in  1825 ;(')  but  when  Pope  Pius  IX.  fled  from 
Rome  before  the  revolution  of  1848,  the  people  broke  into  the 
mysterious  cells  and  set  free  an  aged  bishop  and  a  nun,  the 
only  occupants  of  the  labyrinth  of  torment.f )  Gavazzi,  who 
entered  the  deserted  palace  surrounded  by  the  enraged  citi- 
zens of  Rome,  describes  the  narrow  corridors,  the  fearful  cells, 
the  pitfalls — the  evidences  of  unpardonable  crimes — the  luxu- 
rious chambers  and  stately  halls,  in  which  the  cardinal  Inquis- 
itors had  held  their  revels  and  condemned  their  guiltless  vic- 
tims. Yet,  when  the  armies  of  the  French  republic  had  re- 
stored Pius  IX.  to  his  unstable  throne,  the  Inquisition  was  once 
more  renewed ;  the  Pope  ruled  again  as  Supreme  Inquisitor. 
Giacinto  Achilli  occupied  for  a  time  a  cell  in  the  ruined  pris- 
ons, and  was  then  removed  to  the  safer  shelter  of  St.  Angelo. 
He  was  afterward  suffered  to  escape  by  the  directions  of  the 
Emperor  of  the  French. 

For  more  than  twenty  years  Pope  Pius  IX.  has  ruled  over 


(')  Jules  Janin,  Voyage  en  Italic,  1838,  describes  tlie  ruin  of  Bologua. 
From  "  cette  ruine  savaute  vous  passez  dans  una  autre  ruine,  Ferrare,"  p. 
246.     It  reflected  that  of  Rome. 

.{-)  Rule,  Hist.  Inq.,  p.  430,  gives  Gavazzi's  letter.     Id.,  p.  433. 


PIUS  IX.  REVIVES  TEE  INQUISITION.  405 

the  Koman  Inquisition,  the  last  remnant  of  that  mighty  fab- 
ric which  had  once  overshadowed  great  states  and  empires, 
and  had  embraced  all  Europe  in  its  fatal  chains.  If  we  may 
trust  the  records  of  his  officials,  his  reign  has  not  been  unwor- 
thy of  his  unsparing  predecessors.  The  Holy  Office,  even  in 
the  midst  of  the  nineteenth  century,  has  proved  no  empty 
shadow  to  those  who  have  deserved  its  attention  ;  and  Dom- 
inic might  have  recognized  in  its  careful  scrutiny  of  heresy, 
blasphemy,  and  sorcery  the  vigorous  tribunal  that  swept  the 
Albigenses  from  the  earth. 

Pius  IX.,  when  the  French  arms  had  destroyed  the  Eoman 
republic,  entered  upon  his  new  despotism  with  all  the  fierce 
resolution  of  an  Innocent  III.  He  felt  himself  to  be  infalli- 
ble. No  gem  had  been  ravished  from  his  triple  crown  that 
he  was  not  prepared  to  reclaim ;  no  prerogative  that  had  been 
assumed  by  his  predecessors  but  was  still  inherent  to  the  chair 
of  St.  Peter.  The  press  was  laid  under  an  interdict ;  the  Bi- 
ble in  the  vernacular  was  banished  from  Rome ;  Protestant 
assemblies  were  forbidden ;  and  the  thunders  of  the  Vatican 
were  launched  against  the  surging  waves  of  modern  reform.(') 
An  excommunication  was  hurled  against  Victor  Emmanuel 
^d  the  Italians,  and  troops  of  Jesuits  and  monks,  of  priests 
and  cardinals,  filled  the  Eternal  City  with  the  clamor  of  a 
new  religious  warfare.  Strong  in  the  protection  of  imperial 
France,  the  priestly  rulers  despised  the  united  hostility  of  the 
Roman  populace,  shut  up  the  Roman  reformers  in  dismal 
dungeons,  or  mercilessly  shot  them  down  upon  the  Roman 
Campagna.  Rome  became  the  last  refuge  of  religious  per- 
secution—  the  scene  of  enormities  over  which  Dominic  and 
Loyola  might  have  exulted  with  fond  congratulations.  » 

The  Inquisition  was  at  once  revived.  In  March,  1850,  a 
convention  of  cardinals,  bishops,  and  archbishops  met  at  Lo- 
retto,  the  most  sacred  shrine  of  Mary,  and  issued  an  edict, 
which  was  afterward  confirmed  by  the  Pope,  to  enforce  the 


(')  I  need  scarcely  confirm  facts  so  notorious  by  any, authorities;  yet  the 
reader  will  do  well  to  look  over  the  Syllabus  and  the  cauous,  and  the  de- 
crees of  the  Council. 


406  DOMINIC  AND  THE  INQUISITION. 

devotion  of  the  rebellious  people.(')  "Whoever  committed  the 
crime  of  blasphemy  by  offering  insults  to  the  Blessed  Mary 
or  the  saints,  might  be  punished  with  from  ten  to  thirty  days' 
imprisonment ;  and  upon  a  second  offense  the  extreme  pen- 
alties of  the  canon  law  might  be  imposed.  (')  Heresy  was  to 
be  punished  still  more  severely ;  and  whoever  should  omit  to 
inform  against  a  heretic  might  share  his  doom.  Whoever  re- 
fused to  kneel  in  the  public  way  as  the  host  passed  by,  neg- 
lected a  feast-day,  violated  a  fast,  or  profaned  a  church  by  any 
act  of  irreverence,  was  exposed  to  the  penalties  of  the  law. 
An  earlier  edict,  which  is  still  retained,  enjoined  all  good 
Catholics  to  inform  against  any  one  who  was  a  sorcerer,  who 
had  made  a  compact  with  Satan,  or  who  praj-ed  or  made  liba- 
tions to  the  Prince  of  Evil.Q 

These  regulations  seem  to  have  been  enforced  with  all  the 
bitterness  of  spiritual  tyranny.  Informers  sj)rung  up  in  every 
district,  and  priests  and  monks  hunted  the  heretic  in  his  most 
secret  retreats.  At  Fermo,  a  citizen  died  under  torture ;  at 
Bertinoro,  in  1855,  five  years'  imprisonment  was  imposed  for 
insulting  a  priest.(*)  The  prisons  of  Pius  IX.  were  tilled  with 
unhappy  captives  who  had  offended  against  the  spiritual  or  the 
temporal  authority  of  the  Church. 

Thus,  in  the  midst  of  the  glories  of  modern  civilization,  in 
the  heart  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  reign  of  Pius  IX. 
passed  on  before  the  eyes  of  Europe,  a  living  picture  of  the 
barbarism  and  degradation  of  the  days  of  Pius  V.  or  Innocent 
III.  Eome  \vas  a  fortress,  a  prison,  and  a  convent.  The 
streets  of  the  Etefoal  City  swarmed  with  a  population  of  in- 
dolent monks  and  begging  friars.(')  The  pompous  festivals 
of  the  mediaeval  Church  drew  crowds  of  cin-ious  pilgrims  from 
Europe  and  America,  who  wondered  or  smiled  at  the  magnifi- 
cence of  its  pagan  rites,  and  too  often  forgot  the  woes  of  the 
murmuring  people  who  trembled  before  their  priestly  rulers. 

(^)  Italy  in  Transition,  Appendix,  gives  the  edict. 

(')  Article  VI.,  cap.  i. 

C)  Italy  iu  Transition,  Appendix  E.,  p.  460. 

C)  Italy  in  Transition,  p.  215.     The  act  of  faith  was  not  renewed. 

(')  Seymour,  Pilgrimage  to  Rome  (1848),  p.  187. 


SOEEOJVS  AXD  DELIVERANCE  OF  ROME.  407 

The  Komans  wept  in  secret  over  tlieir  untold  oppression ;  the 
strano-er  alone  swelled  the  multitude  that  assisted  at  the  cere- 
monies  of  St.  Peter's.  Few  cared  to  remember,  beneath  the 
glitter  of  the  illuminations  and  the  magnificence  of  the  stately 
show,  that  a  garrison,  half  brigand,  half  convict,  gleaming  in 
rich  uniform,  and  armed  with  the  most  effective  rifle,  was  re- 
quired to  suppress  the  indignation  of  every  Koman  patriot 
and  maintain  the  barbarous  government  on  its  throne ;  few 
suspected  that  in  almost  every  dwelling  of  the  decayed  and 
fallen  city  were  impoverished  families  lamenting  for  their  ex- 
iles or  their  dead,  and  men  and  women  shuddering  at  the  enor- 
mities of  the  papal  guard.(')  Eome  sat  separate  from  the  civ- 
ilized world,  surromided  by  the  waste  of  her  desolate  Cam- 
pagna,  a  heap  of  venerable  ruins ;  and  the  last  Supreme  In- 
quisitor— the  successor  of  Deza  and  Torquemada — enforced 
for  a  moment  the  discipline  of  Dominic,  and,  supported  by 
a  host  of  bishops  and  cardinals,  launched  his  final  anathema 
against  the  progress  of  the  age. 

Chanting  the  hymns  of  Luther,  and  patriotic  songs  that  re- 
call the  wild  strains  of  the  Teutonic  hosts  that  flung  them- 
selves upon  the  armies  of  Julian,  the  Germans  crossed  the 
Rhine,  and  marched  victorious  to  the  walls  of  Paris.  With 
the  fall  of  his  imperial  ally,  the  Pope  was  left  without  a  friend. 
Italy  in  a  moment  sprung  to  arms,  to  deliver  the  hapless  Ro- 
mans and  expel  the  robber  garrison  from  the  Eternal  City. 
Fifty  thousand  ardent  soldiers,  beneath  the  burning  heats  of 
September,  encamped  around  Pome  upon  the  desolate  Cam- 
pagna,  and  awaited  patiently  on  that  deadly  plain,  scorched  by 
the  autumnal  sun  and  tenanted  by  poisonous  vipers,  until  the 
Holy  Father,  after  a  mischievous  delay,  consented  to  resign  his 
temporal  crown. Q     A  brief  assault  and  a  needless  waste  of 

(')  Some  earlier  travelers — Ladj'  Morgan,  Mrs.  Trollope,  and  others — see 
only  the  splendid  rites.  Simoud,  Tour  in  Italy  (1817),  p.  297,  is  more  dis- 
criminating. 

(")  London  Times,  September  24tb  ;  Daily  News,  September  27tb.  In 
consequence  of  the  delay,  great  suffering  was  occasioned  in  the  Italian 
army ;  soldiers  died  of  malarious  fevers  ;  food  and  water  were  scarce ;  the 
ground  was  covered  with  poisonous  vipers. 


408  DOMINIC  AND   THE  INQUISITION. 

life  enforced  his  submission ;  the  Italian  troops  and  a  train 
of  exiled  patriots  swept  into  the  rejoicing  city.  The  Romans 
met  their  deliverers  with  grateful  acclamations,  and,  clinging 
to  their  side,  exclaimed,  "  Save  us  from  the  Pope  and  his  brig- 
and soldiers !"  A  boundless  joy,  a  guiltless  triumph,  swelled 
over  Italy,  and  every  patriot  exulted  in  the  thought  that  for 
the  first  time  since  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire  his  country 
■was  united — was  free. 

The  German  march  across  the  Rhine  was  the  signal  for  an- 
other change.  The  Holy  Office  was  no  more.  The  Supreme 
Inquisitor  had  been  driven  from  his  temporal  rule;  the  pris- 
ons were  opened ;  the  persecuting  edicts  were  of  no  further 
significance;  the  Bible  was  read  beneath  the  sliadow  of  St. 
Peter's ;  and  Yaudois  missionaries  from  the  valleys  were  al- 
ready planning  a  seminary  and  a  church  at  Rome.  For  the 
first  time  since  the  destruction  of  the  Albigenses,  it  may  be 
safely  afiirmed  that  the  Inquisition  of  Dominic  has  ceased  to 
exist. 

Yet  the  sacred  duty  will  ever  remain  for  us  and  for  poster- 
ity to  celebrate,  with  gratitude  and  admiration,  the  memory  of 
the  countless  hosts  who  perished  by  the  fires  of  persecution  ;  of 
those  generous  martyrs  who  fell  in  the  front  ranks  of  human 
advance.  The  gentle  Albigenses,  gifted  children  of  the  South ; 
the  Spanish  Hebrew,  teacher  of  industry  and  tlirift ;  the  Moors, 
adorned  by  scholarship  and  taste ;  the  Lutheran  and  the  Cal- 
vinist ;  the  men  of  science,  philosophy,  and  thought — the  hon- 
ored list  of  the  victims  of  Dominic  and  tlie  Inquisition — must 
shine  forever  with  a  softened  lustre  amidst  the  gloom  of  the 
Middle  Ages ;  and  it  is  possible  that  some  historian  from  the 
declivities  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  or  the  shores  of  the  Pacific, 
when,  six  hundred  years  from  now,  according  to  the  limitation 
of  Cicero,  he  studies  the  annals  of  European  barbarism,  will 
neglect  the  useless  strife  of  savage  kings  and  persecuting 
priests  to  record  the  fate  of  the  inventors  and  artisans,  the  la- 
borers and  the  thinkers,  who  laid  in  suffering  and  toil  tlie  foun- 
dations of  modern  freedom. 


THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

On  the  sharp  promontory  of  St.  David's,  that  cuts  the  tur- 
bid waves  of  the  Irish  Sea,  stood  Dermot  Macmorrough,  Prince 
of  Leinster,  planning  the  ruin  of  his  native  hind.  Exiled  for 
his  cruel  oppressions,  hated  and  contemned  by  friend  and  foe, 
the  royal  traitor,  says  the  contemporary  chronicle,  watched 
with  eager  eyes  the  distant  coast  of  Ireland,  and  caught  with 
joy  the  scent  of  the  gales  that  breathed  from  his  ancestral 
fields.(')  To  Dermot  of  Leinster  his  countrymen  may  well 
ascribe  the  loss  of  their  freedom  and  the  destruction  of  their 
national  faith.  The  savage  chief  was  one  of  the  numerous 
kings  or  rulers  of  Ireland.  lie  was  tall  in  stature,  of  huge 
proportions,  valiant  in  war,  terrible  to  his  foes ;  his  sonorous 
voice  was  become  hoarse  from  raising  the  war-cry  of  battle  ;(^) 
his  sanguinary  joy  was  to  count  the  heads  of  the  slain  and  ex- 
ult over  the  heaps  of  the  fallen.  But  misfortune  or  retribu- 
tion had  at  last  come  upon  the  haughty  Dermot :  his  people 
had  risen  against  his  tyranny.  And  a  woman,  adds  the  monk- 
ish writer,  with  natural  injustice,  has  usually  been  the  cause 
of  the  chief  woes  of  man,  as  witness  Helen  or  Cleopatra ;  nor 
was  this  destructive  element  wanting  to  the  sorrows  of  Der- 
mot.(')  The  barbarous  Paris  had  snatched  from  King  O'Roric 
of  Meath  a  faithless  bride ;  the  Irish  princes,  like  the  Grecian 
chieftains,  had  united  to  avenge  the  unpardonable  wrong ; 
Koderic  of  Connaught,  then  monarch  of  all  Ireland,  led  the 
forces  of  his  country  against  the  offender ;  the  nobles  of  Lein- 
ster deserted  their  guilty  prince,  and  Dermot  fled  to  Wales  or 

—  4—- -,.-,,■  .  ..■■,  .-_-■     ■  ■    ■■        -  ,  ...  —     ■ ■ - 

(')  Giraldus  Cambreusis,  Hibernia  Expuguata,  caj).  ii. :  "Et  quasi  desi- 
deratsB  nidorem  patriaj  naribus  trabens." 

('')Girald.,Hib.Ex. 

(')  "  Sed  quouiam  mala  fere  cuncta  majora  tarn  M.  Autonio  quam  Troja 
testante." 


410  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

England  in  a  convenient  sliip,  glowing  with  hatred  against  his 
countrymen,  resolved  to  destroy,  by  the  aid  of  foreign  arms, 
the  irresistible  confederacy  of  the  Irish  chiefs.(') 

Kevenge,  or  a  passionate  longing  to  revisit  the  green  mead- 
ows of  Leinster,  probably  blinded  the  Irish  chieftain  to  the 
consequences  of  his  design.  Yet,  however  deep  and  insatiable 
his  vengeance,  he  must  have  shrunk  appalled  from  his  fatal 
purpose  could  he  have  foreseen  through  the  lapse  of  centuries 
the  endless  chain  of  tyranny  he  was  about  to  entail  upon  his 
country ;  the  miseries  of  its  people,  that  were  never  to  cease ; 
the  cruel  triumph  of  the  Nor;uan  knights  as  they  hunted  the 
Irish  from  their  pleasant  pastures  to  wild  fens  and  dismal  sol- 
itudes ;  the  utter  ruin  of  its  ancient  Church,  that  was  to  be 
crushed  beneath  the  furious  bigotry  of  Rome ;  the  series  of 
perpetual  sorrows  that  were  to  weigh  down  an  innocent  and 
happy  race,  and  make  the  Irish  name  from  the  twelfth  to  the 
nineteenth  century  the  symbol  of  national  subjection  and  de- 
cay. 

l^OY  could  Dermot  have  succeeded  in  his  aim  had  he  not 
been  aided  by  the  two  most  potent  of  his  country's  foes.  The 
ISTorman  King  of  England,  Henry  II.,  and  the  Pope  of  Eome, 
had  already  resolved  upon  the  destruction  of  Ireland.  Of  the 
causes  and  the  results  of  this  unmerited  enmit}^  we  propose  to 
give  a  brief  but,  we  trust,  a  not  uninstructive  sketch. 

From  that  gloomy  period  that  lies  between  the  fifth  and 
the  tenth  century,  when  all  Europe  was  desolated  by  the  swift 
inroads  of  ^Northern  barbarians,  and  w^lien  Goths  or  Huns 
were  laying  the  foundations  of  novel  systems  of  govern- 
ment, the  island  of  Erin,  sheltered  amidst  the  waves,  shines 
ont  with  the  tranquil  lustre  that  won  for  it  the  appellation  of 
the  Island  of  the  Saints.f )  Ko  savage  hordes  ravaged  its  fer- 
tile fields ;  no  papal  crusade  corrupted  its  early  Christianity ; 
a  soft  and  misty  climate  made  it  the  perpetual  abode  of  plenty 

(')  Haumer  and  Campion  should  be  consulted  for  the  early  history; 
Moore  is  uncritical ;  O'Connor  more  independent.  The  Four  Masters  give 
the  annals  briefly. 

(^)  Campion,  Hist.  Ireland,  p.  19,  is  filled  with  legends,  but  is  entertain- 
ing.    Hanmer  relates  the  miracles  of  Patrick,  p.  76. 


miSH  SCENERY.  411 

and  temperate  ease.(')  From  the  central  ridge  of  picturesque 
mountains,  often  covered  with  bog,  or  supporting,  like  natural 
vases,  some  crystal  pool  amidst  their  summits,  the  soil  of  Ire- 
land slopes  downward  on  all  sides  to  the  sea.  It  was  ever 
rich  in  pastures  and  meadows,  honey  and  milk;  countless 
herds  of  cattle  wandered  beneath  its  forests  and  over  its 
bountiful  fields ;  it  purchased,  with  its  hides  and  skins,  an 
abundance  of  wine  from  the  coasts  of  Poitou ;  its  stags,  with 
noble  antlers  and  slender  sliapes,  ranged  in  troops  over  its  se- 
questered hills,  and  herds  of  wild  boar,  more  numerous  than 
those  of  any  other  land,  tilled  the  thickets  of  Ulster  and  Killar- 
ney.  There  were  swans  and  cranes ;  crows,  always  party-color- 
ed, and  never  black ;  no  nightingales ;  swift  hawks  and  count- 
less eagles,  who  could  gaze  with  unwinking  eyes  upon  the 
sun,  who  soared  upward  until  they  almost  reached  the  fiery 
gates  of  heaven,  whose  lives  were  so  prolonged  that  they  look- 
ed down  from  their  mountain  peaks  upon  the  successive  genera- 
tions of  dying  man,  and  scorned  the  feeble  race  beneath  them.(^) 
One  strange  exception  marked  the  animated  life  of  Ireland. 
At  least  in  the  year  1170,  we  are  assured,  no  venomous  rep- 
tiles could  exist  upon  its  sacred  soil ;(')  no  snakes  nor  adders, 
no  scoi-pious,  frogs,  nor  dragons,  were  found  in  its  green  fields, 
or  lay  hidden  in  the  recesses  of  its  mountains.  In  France,  it 
was  said,  the  frogs  filled  the  air  with  their  croaking,  in  Britain 
they  were  silent,  but  in  Ireland  there  were  none ;  reptiles  or 
toads  brought  in  ships  to  the  shores  of  Leinster  died  as  they 
touched  the  enchanted  ground ;  the  soil  of  Ireland,  sprinkled 
over  foreign  gardens,  exjDelled  the  reptile  crew ;  once  only  a 
single  frog  was  discovered  alive  in  the  grassy  meadows  of 
Wexford,  and  was  surrounded  by  an  immense  crowd  of  the 
Irish  and  the  English,  gazing  in  speechless  wonder  upon  the 
unparalleled  prodigy.     Bearded  natives  and  shaven  strangers 


(})  Girald.,  Topog.  Hib.,  is  always  unfavorable  to  the  victims  of  the  Ger- 

aldines,  but  extols  the  country. 

(")  Girald.,  Top.  Hib. :  "  lu  ipsos  Solaris  corporis  radios." 

(')  Gerald,  who  studied  the  country  with  care,  affirms  the  virtue  of  the 

Irish  soil.     The  tradition  proves  that  reptiles  were  at  least  rare:  they 

have  since  multiiilied. 


412  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

were  struck  with  equal  consteraation.  Gliost  or  apparition 
they  might  liave  borne  with  cahnness,  but  a  frog,  green  and 
vigorous,  was  never  seen  in  Ireland  before.  At  length  Don- 
ald, King  of  Ossory,  a  man  renowned  for  wisdom  and  pru- 
dence, advanced  among  the  thick  press  of  his  people  to  ex- 
plain the  omen.  Beating  his  head,  and  weighed  down  by  un- 
feigned grief,  he  cried,  "  That  reptile  is  the  bearer  of  doleful 
news  to  Erin."(')  The  Normans  soon  after,  says  the  chroni- 
cler, invaded  the  unhappy  land,  and  fulfilled  the  saying  of  the 
acute  Donald. 

The  people  of  Ireland  belonged  to  that  wide-spread  family 
of  Celts  that  had  once  ruled  over  France,  Britain,  and  the  hills 
of  Scotland.  They  were  tall,  well  -  formed,  and  vigorous.(^) 
Their  hair  and  eyes  were  black ;  parents  educated  their  chil- 
dren to  bear  privation  and  live  on  scanty  food;  their  dress 
was  a  thick  coat  of  the  black  wool  of  the  country,  and  heavy 
hose  or  breeches — a  plain  mark  of  barbarism  to  the  l^ormans, 
who  still  wore  the  flowing  robes  of  ancient  Rome.  They  suf- 
fered their  beards  and  hair  to  grow  to  an  enormous  length ; 
they  built  no  towns  nor  cities,  but  lived  a  pastoral  life,  filling 
the  woods  and  fields  with  immense  herds  of  cattle.  Yet,  like 
all  the  Celts,  the  Irish  were  passionate  lovers  of  music  and 
poetry.  Bards,  renowned  from  Cork  to  Derry,  sung  at  the 
great  assemblies  of  Tara  the  exploits  of  the  O'Tooles  and  the 
0']*<^eils,  and  took  rank  with  the  chief  nobles  and  princes. 
The  musicians  of  Ireland  excelled  those  of  all  other  lands; 
they  touched  the  strings  of  their  native  harp  with  such  deli- 
cate and  cultivated  art,  and  produced  strains  so  soft  yet  lively, 
so  rapid,  sweet,  and  gay,  that  even  their  Norman  conquerors 
yielded  to  its  seductions,  and  filled  their  castles  with  Irish 
hai-pers-C)  The  Irish  bishop  or  saint  in  his  missionary  toils 
carried  his  harp  with  him  to  soothe  his  lonely  hours.     The 

(')  Topog.  Hib.,  cap.  sxiv. :  "  Pessimos  in  Hiberniam  rumores  vermis  ille 
portavit."     Gerald  relates  the  incident  as  if  of  his  own  knowledge. 

(-)  Girald. :  "  Pulclierrimis  et  proceris." 

(')  Girald.,  Top.  Hib.,  cap.  xi. :  "  In  niusicis  solum  instrnmentis  cora- 
raeudabilem."  The  Irish  airs  began  and  closed  on  B  flat,  and  were  singu- 
larly melodious. 


PATRICE  IN  IRELAND.  413 

Irish  princes  swept  their  harp-strings  with  rapid  touch  as  they 
made  ready  for  battle. 

But  the  chief  boast  of  Ireland  was  its  independence.  The 
Romans  had  seen,  but  scarcely  visited,  the  savage  isle,  whose 
inhabitants,  Strabo  relates,  sometimes  devoured  each  other. 
The  Saxons  had  made  no  incursions  on  the  Irish  shore.  The 
Norwegians,  masters  of  the  Western  isles,  founded  the  flour- 
ishing cities  of  Dublin,  Wexford,  Cork,  or  Limerick,  but  were 
blended  peacefully  with  the  native  inhabitants ;  and  of  all  the 
Celtic  races  the  Irish  alone  remained  free.  Their  kino;s  were 
elective ;  a  supreme  ruler  was  chosen  in  the  national  assembly, 
and  was  crowned  upon  the  Stone  of  Destiny  at  Tara ;  the  im- 
pulsive people  obeyed  cheerfully  their  native  rulers,  and  only 
rebelled  when  some  cruel  Dermot  drove  them  to  revolt  and 
outraged  the  higher  instincts  of  humanity. 

Christianity,  in  its  purer  form,  came  to  Ireland  about  the 
middle  of  the  flfth  century.(')  For  six  years  Patrick,  the  son 
of  pious  parents,  the  child  of  a  priest,  had  been  held  in  slavery 
in  Ireland,  and  on  the  hills  of  Antrim  had  tended  his  sheep 
and  worshiped  God.  Every  seventh  year  it  was  the  Irish 
custom  to  set  free  all  bondmen.  Patrick  returned  to  his 
native  Brittany,  to  his  parents  and  his  Christian  friends,  was 
ordained  a  presbyter,  and  studied  in  the  Celtic  schools  of  Gaul. 
Yet  his  fancy  must  often  have  gone  back  to  the  pleasant  fields 
and  generous  natives  of  Antrim,  where  his  spotless  youth  had 
passed,  who  were  still  lost  in  savage  superstitions,  who  sacri- 
ficed the  firstlings  of  their  flocks,  and  sometimes  their  infants, 
in  the  Yalley  of  Slaughter,  and  knelt  in  the  groves  of  the 
Druids.  A  vision  came  to  Patrick  as  he  labored  at  his  studies 
in  Gaul,  summoning  him  to  the  conversion  of  Ireland.  A 
voice  called  him  in  the  midnight:  he  obeyed.  About  the 
year  432  he  crossed  the  seas  to  the  land  where  he  had  once 
been  a  slave,  and  preached  the  simple  Gospel  to  the  bards,  the 
princes,  and  the  bearded  people  of  Erin.f ) 

(')  Thierry,  Conquete  de  TAugleterre,  iii.,  p.  195  et  scq.,  preseuts  au  ac- 
curate picture  of  the  early  Irish  Church. 

C)  The  only  trustworthy  account  of  Patrick  is  his  own  Coufessio  and  a 
single  letter.  The  more  recent  lives  are  filled  with  the  visions  and  mira- 
cles of  the  Dark  Ages. 


414r  TEE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

In  the  year  432  there  were  no  images  nor  crucifixes,  no 
pompous  ritual,  no  spiritual  despotism,  no  moral  corruption 
emanating  from  Rome.  The  Imperial  City,  sacked  by  Goth 
and  plundered  by  Ilun,  torn  by  discord,  soon  to  be  desolated 
by  Genseric,  and  reduced  almost  to  a  naked  waste,  harried  by 
robbers  and  polluted  by  savages,  had  simk  to  the  condition  of 
a  provincial  town.  Its  scanty  population,  its  corrupted  priest- 
hood, or  its  trembling  bishop  were  scarcely  able  to  maintain 
the  existence  of  its  fallen  Church.  Patrick,  therefore,  the 
humble  slave  and  missionary,  brought  to  Ireland  the  simple 
elements  of  an  apostolic  faith ;  he  preached  only  the  doctrines 
of  Paul,  with  almost  equal  success.(')  The  savage  Irish  re- 
ceived him  with  generous  hospitality ;  he  preached  to  the  as- 
sembled nation  on  the  hill  of  Tara ;  he  purged  the  Yalley  of 
Slaughter  of  its  dreadful  rites  ;  he  founded  schools,  churches, 
and  monasteries  in  the  wilds  of  Connaught  and  along  the 
dreary  coasts  of  Ulster,  and  Ireland  became  a  Christian  coun- 
try, renowned  for  its  intelligence,  its  pious  genius,  and  its  mis- 
sionary zeal. 

For  many  centuries  the  island  of  the  saints  abounded  with 
schools  where  countless  teachers  were  educated,  and  where 
scholars  from  all  the  neighboring  countries  came  to  study 
at  the  feet  of  the  most  accomplished  professors  of  the  age.(^) 
While  Rome  and  Italy  had  sunk  into  a  new  barbarism,  Ire- 
land had  revived  the  taste  for  classical  learning,  and  was  filled 
with  a  thoughtful  and  progressive  population.  At  the  great 
college  of  Armagh  seven  thousand  students  are  said  to  have 
been  gathered  at  once ;  a  hundred  schools  studded  the  green 
fields  of  the  happy  isle;  in  every  monastery  its  inmates  la- 
bored and  taught  with  ceaseless  industry ;  its  missionary  teach- 
ers wandered  among  the  Franks  of  Gaul  and  the  Celts  of 
Scotland,  to  Belgium  and  to  Germany,  sowing  everywhere  the 
genns  of  Christian  civilization.     Irish  scholars  established  the 

(')  There  is  uo  trace  in  the  Confession  of  any  knowledge  of  Romish 
practices,  or  any  mention  of  Rome. 

(-)  Thierry,  Couquete,  iii.,  p.  195 :  "  Leur  lie  comjitait  une  foule  de  saints 
et  de  savants."  See  Ware,  Hist.  Bishojis  of  Ireland,  i.,  p.  4,  for  Patrick's 
life  and  the  legends. 


lEISE  SCHOLARS.  415 

colleges  of  Charlemagne.  Yirgilius  and  Erigena  renewed  the 
taste  for  philosophical  inquiry ;  Columban,  among  the  recess- 
es of  the  Vosges,  had  taught  honesty  and  independence  to  the 
savage  Franks  ;  St.  Gall,  an  Irishman,  founded  in  the  heights 
of  Switzerland  that  famous  monastery  long  afterward  renown- 
ed for  its  opulence  and  pride ;  nor  would  it  be  possible  even 
to  enumerate  the  long  succession  of  Irish  scholars  who  in  this 
eventful  period  laid  the  foundations  of  European  progress. 
It  should  be  remembered  that  the  Irish  were  the  first  to  im- 
press upon  the  barbarians  of  the  jSTorth  the  necessity  of  popu- 
lar education,  the  priceless  importance  of  the  public  school. 

A  bleak  and  rocky  island  washed  by  the  stormy  l^orthern 
seas  has  become  immortal  as  the  home  of  the  most  renowned 
of  the  Irish  missionaries.(')  lona,  or  the  Druid's  Isle,  on  the 
western  coast  of  Scotland,  swept  by  fierce  arctic  winds  and 
lashed  by  the  wintry  waves,  still  preserves  traces  of  that  sa- 
cred company  who  once  prayed  and  labored  on  its  inliospitable 
rocks.  Here  are  the  ruins  of  extensive  churches,  composed 
of  blocks  of  stone  five  or  six  feet  long ;  the  foundations  of 
ancient  schools  and  monasteries,  wdience  Europe  was  once  in- 
structed ;  a  multitude  of  tombs,  overgrown  with  weeds,  where 
forty-eight  kings  of  Scotland  and  a  throng  of  saints  and  he- 
roes lie  buried ;  and  sculptured  crosses  and  sepulchres,  from 
which  the  grim  faces  of  angels  or  demons,  distorted  by  time, 
still  gaze  upon  the  observer.^  The  legends  on  the  tombs  are 
no  longer  legible  ;  the  names  of  the  saints  and  poets,  scholars 
and  kings,  who  sleep  in  the  wild  Westminster  of  the  seas  are 
forgotten ;  yet  perhaps  no  holier  or  more  heroic  spirits  have 
visited  the  earth  than  those  who  for  many  centuries  made 
lona  an  island  of  light  amidst  the  general  decay  and  degra- 
dation of  the  intellect. 

Columba,  the  missionary  of  lona,  was  educated  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  sixth  century,  in  the  pure  religion  of  the  Irish 


(')  Becle,  Hist.  Ecc,  iii. :  "  Venit  aiitem  Brittaniam  Columba." 
(-)  The  tombs  and  ruius  of  loua  do  not  probably  reach  back  beyoud  tbc 
tenth  century ;  are  the  products  of  Romish  labors.     See  Pennaut,  Tour, 
lona.     Wilson,  Tour  round  Scotland,  p.  130,  notices  a  "  giant  cross." 


416  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

Church.  He  was  the  descendant  of  kings,  perhaps  born  to 
opulence  and  power.  But  he  sought  a  spiritual  crown,  and 
gave  himself  eagerly  to  ceaseless  study.  Learned  in  all  the 
attainments  of  the  age,  his  chief  delight  was  ever  in  the  liter- 
ature of  the  Scriptures.  With  Paul  he  meditated  upon  the 
mighty  problems  of  life  and  death ;  like  Paul  he  went  forth 
to  convert  mankind.  He  passed  over  Ireland,  founding  great 
monasteries  and  schools,  long  afterward  renowned  as  centres 
of  purity  and  faith ;  he  preached  in  the  wilds  of  Scotland ; 
he  planted  the  germs  of  Christianity  in  the  British  Isles.  At 
leno-th  he  selected  the  bare  and  barren  lona  as  the  scene  of 

CI 

his  chief  labors,  the  home  of  his  adventurous  spirit.  He  land- 
ed ^\^th  twelve  disciples  on  its  rocky  breast,  and  built  liis  hum- 
ble monastery.  Amidst  the  roar  of  the  angry  waves  and  the 
rage  of  the  arctic  seas  the  prayers  and  toils  of  the  faithful 
company  ripened  into  a  wonderful  success.  The  bleak  rocks 
of  lona  were  wrought  into  a  chain  of  costly  buildings,  and 
were  covered  with  a  pious  and  studious  population.  The 
kings  of  the  North  laid  their  offerings  on  its  modest  shrines, 
and  claimed  the  right  of  burial  by  the  side  of  its  scholars  and 
saints.  Centuries  passed  on ;  Columba  slept  peacefully  on 
his  Druid's  Isle ;  the  fame  of  lona  spread  over  the  world,  and 
its  missionaries  carried  learning  and  Christianity  through  all 
those  savage  lands  over  which  the  benevolent  Columba  had 
bent  with  affectionate  regard. 

Late  in  the  seventh  century  the  malarious  influence  of  the 
Italian  priesthood  began  to  subdue  tlie  British  churches,  and 
reached  even  to  the  rebellious  presbyters  of  lona.  To  Pome 
they  had  ever  presented  a  silent  opposition.(')  They  owed  it 
no  allegiance;  they  followed  none  of  the  Pomisli  rites.f) 
They  had  founded  a  Northern  Church  in  Scotland,  Ireland, 

(')  The  acnte,  learned,  judicious  Thierry  (iii.,  p.  197)  asserts  the  liberty 
of  the  Irish  Church,  and  observes  the  incessant  efforts  of  the  Popes  to  sub- 
due it.  "  Les  papes  se  bornorent  h  n(5gocicr,  par  lettres  et  par  messages, 
pour  tacher  d'amener  les  Iilaudais  a  6tablir  dans  leur  ile  uue  hierarchic 
ecclfeiastique,"  etc. 

(-)  Bede,  Hist.  Ecc,  iii.,  25.  Colmau  cites  against  the  popes  the  exam- 
ple of  St.  John. 


THE  IRISH  CHURCH.  417 

France,  or  Saxony,  that  professed  to  draw  its  origin  from  the 
gentle  model  of  Ephesus  and  St.  John,  and  had  scarcely  heard 
of  the  primacy  of  Peter.  By  force  and  fraud  the  unscrupu- 
lous prelates  of  Home  pursued  and  subjugated  the  primitive 
Christians,  massacred  tlieir  bishops  in  "Wales,  seized  on  their 
churches  in  Scotland,  and  at  last  intruded  a  Eomish  bishop 
and  Italian  rites  into  the  hallowed  seat  of  Columba.  lona 
now  lost  its  reputation  for  scholarship  and  sanctity.  The 
pestilential  breath  of  Italian  corruption  dissipated  its  moral 
vigor.  Its  missionaries  no  longer  poured  forth  in  devoted 
bands  to  civilize  and  restrain  the  barbarous  ISTorth.  The 
Danes  and  Norwegians  began  their  savage  inroads  upon  the 
Irish  seas,  and  in  806  a  fleet  of  swift  vessels,  tilled  with  the 
yellow-haired  worshipers  of  Odin,  surrounded  the  holy  island, 
and  landed  its  vikings  upon  the  sacred  soil.  A  brief  contest 
followed.  The  monks  and  scholars  fought  bravely  in  defense 
of  their  peaceful  home.  But  soon  all  was  carnage  and  desolation. 
The  Norman  pirates  laughed  as  they  beheld  the  island  strewed 
with  the  dead,  and  gathered  their  impious  plunder ;  and  the 
chant  of  the  j)agan  bards  celebrating  the  victory  of  the  vikings 
was  the  only  sound  heard  amidst  the  desolate  ruins  of  lona.(') 
The  Irish  Church  meantime  flourished  with  signal  vigor. 
It  was  in  the  fresh  ardor  of  evangelical  prosperity.  Its  simple 
elders,  or  bishops,  without  any  flxed  sees,  traveled  from  coun- 
ty to  county,  confirming  their  intelligent  people  in  their  an- 
cestral faith. (■)  They  were  maintained  by  voluntary  contribu- 
tions. Avarice  and  priestly  pride  were  unknown  to  the  suc- 
cessors of  Patrick.  They  founded  their  ritual  upon  the  vener- 
able practice  of  the  apostles,  their  doctrines  upon  the  study 
of  the  Scriptures.  No  archbishop  had  ever  been  known  in 
Ireland ;  no  legate  from  the  papal  court  was  allowed  to  in- 
trude within  the  sacred  isle.(')      No  contributions  from  the 

(')  It  was  renewed,  aud,  often  ravaged,  it  slowly  declined. 

(^)  Thieny,  Conqnete  de  I'Angleterre,  x. :  "  Leurs  ^veques  n'<^taiont  qne 
de  simples  pretres,  auxqnels  on  avait  coufi6  par  61ectiou  la  charge  i)urciiient 
de  surveillans  ou  de  visiteurs  des  <5glise8,"  iii.,  p.  198.  They  held  no  su- 
periority of  rank,  nor  thought  of  it. 

(')  Thierry, Conquete,  iii.,  198:  "On  achcter  le  pallium  pontifical." 

27 


418  THE  CONQUEST  OF  lEELAND. 

Irish  Cliiircli  swelled  the  ever-craving  treasury  of  St.  Peter. 
No  tithes,  lirst-fruits,  or  ecclesiastical  tribute  helped  to  con- 
firm the  growing  splendor  and  corruption  of  the  Roman  See. 
Tlie  Irish  bishops  firmly  maintained  their  independence  against 
the  constant  menaces  of  Popes  or  councils;  would  consent 
to  hold  no  intercourse  with  the  Court  of  Rome;  denied  its 
claim  to  the  right  of  ordination,  and  consecrated  each  other 
by  a  simple  laying-on  of  hands ;  rejected  the  worship  of  im- 
ages, the  adoration  of  Mary,  the  infallibility  of  the  Pope,  and 
in  all  their  schools  and  colleges  persisted  in  a  free  study  of 
the  Scriptures.  With  an  earlier  Protestantism  that  Luther 
mio'lit  have  suggested  and  Calvin  approved,  they  inculcated 
and  exercised  a  general  liberty  of  conscience  founded  upon  the 
wide  education  of  the  people,  and  a  moral  vigor  that  had  been 
handed  down  from  their  forefathers.  The  honesty,  simplicity, 
and  pious  zeal  of  the  Irish  teachers  are  admitted  by  the  more 
intelligent  of  their  opponents.(') 

But  bitter  was  the  hostility  with  which  the  Roman  Popes 
and  the  Italian  conclaves  had  long  been  accustomed  to  view 
the  Island  of  the  Saints,  where  alone  their  maledictions  had 
been  treated  with  neglect ;  which  had  never  trembled  before 
the  violence  of  a  Hiklebrand  or  the  milder  reproofs  of  Hono- 
rius ;  where  they  could  never  levy  the  smallest  tax  nor  sell  a 
benefice ;  where  presbyters  were  married,  and  suffered  their 
hair  to  hang  down  upon  their  shoulders.(')  As  the  Popes 
advanced  steadily  in  their  career  of  ambition  and  crime,  and 
the  authority  of  Rome  was  established  by  a  general  extirpa- 
tion of  the  primitive  Christianity  of  Gaul,  Britain,  Wales,  and 
Scotland,  the  Church  of  Ireland  became  more  than  ever  be- 
fore the  object  of  the  envy  and  hatred  of  the  Italian  priests. 
Its  simple  honesty  put  to  shame  the  unprincipled  lives  of 
those  guilty  men  who  from  the  fabled  chair  of  St.  Peter  had 
set  the  world  an  example  of  falsehood  and  duplicity  that  had 

(')  Girald.,  Topog.  Hib. :  "  Clerus  satis  religione  commendabilis."  Grer- 
ald  allows  them  piety,  chastity,  etc. 

(-)  Thierry,  Conquete,  iii.,  p.  198.  New  Rome,  says  Thierry,  must  rely  on 
its  arts,  not  its  legions.  The  inhuman  St.  Bernard,  the  Popes,  and  Gerald 
unite  in  violent  abuse  of  the  Irish  Church. 


THE  POPE  SELLS  IRELAND   TO  ITS  ENEMIES.  419 

corrupted  generations,  and  made  Christianity  a  vain  pretense, 
a  fearful  formalism.  Its  apostolic  usages,  its  Scrij)tural  doc- 
trines, and  its  ever -open  Bible  were  arguments  so  strong 
against  the  fabric  of  Eomish  superstition  that  the  Popes  felt 
that  they  could  never  be  secure  until  they  had  swept  from 
their  path,  in  lire  and  blood,  the  schools,  the  churches,  and  the 
native  bishops  of  Ireland, 

To  accomplish  this  inhuman  aim,  Pope  Adrian  IV.,  in  1156, 
sold  Ireland  to  the  Normans.  For  a  certain  tribute,  to  be  torn 
from  its  bleeding  people,  the  Holy  Father  transferred  all  the 
rights  of  St.  Peter  in  the  soil,  the  inhabitants,  the  schools,  the 
churches  of  the  Island  of  the  Saints,  to  Henry  II.  of  England.(') 
The  Italian  priest  saw  all  the  iniquity  of  his  act.  He  knew 
that  he  was  letting  loose  upon  a  free  and  prosperous  country 
the  horrors  of  an  inexpiable  war;  that  the  fair  iields  of  Lein- 
ster  and  Ulster  would  be  swept  by  bands  of  ravagers  and  mur- 
derers ;  that  the  Norman  knights,  who,  in  their  rage,  did  not 
spare  sex,  age,  or  condition,  would  harry  the  land  of  plenty, 
and  bring  famine  and  desolation,  waste  and  ruin,  to  populous 
cities  and  pleasant  towns ;  that  women,  children,  and  old  men 
would  find  no  mercy  from  their  conquerors,  and  the  stalwart 
youth  of  Ireland  perish  in  endless  seditions.  Yet  he  also 
knew  that  the  vengeance  of  Eome  would  be  at  last  accomplish- 
ed, and  the  rebellious  Church  of  St.  Patrick  die  out  in  the  sor- 
rows of  its  native  land.(')  The  sale  of  Ireland  to  its  foes  is  the 
guiltiest  of  all  the  evil  deeds  of  the  Italian  priesthood.  It  pro- 
duced a  succession  of  St.  Bartholomews ;  it  was  worse  than  the 
expulsion  of  the  Huguenots ;  it  has  proved  more  fatal  to  the 
Irish  race  than  the  Holy  Office  to  Spain.  From  freedom  and 
ease  they  were  suddenly  reduced  to  the  condition  of  slaves 
and  paupers;  from  pleasant  homes  they  were  driven  to  live 
in  caves,  huts,  and  forests ;  they  became  outcasts  and  beggars 
amidst  rich  lands  whence  their  ancestors  had  won  abundance. 
They  were  herded  together  by  the  Normans  in  narrow  dis- 

C)  Mat.  Paris,  i.,  p.  95 ;  GiraW.  Cam.,  Hib.  Ex.,  ii.,  6  ;  Thierry,  iii.,  p.  203. 
i"^)  The  Irish  iu  1081  scarcely  knew  what  was  the  Church  of  Kome.     See 
Lib.  Mun.  Nul.  Hib.,  i.,  p.  50.     The  bishops  and  Lanfranc  define  it  to  them. 


420  TEE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

tricts,  and  learaed  to  live  like  cattle  in  miserable  dens.  Once 
the  most  learned  of  their  contemporaries,  the  teachers  of  Eu- 
rope, the  Irish  sunk  at  once  into  unparalleled  ignorance. 
Within  sight  of  the  great  colleges  of  Cashel  and  Armagh,  they 
forgot  the  use  of  books,  and  knew  only  the  dull  drivel  of  the 
Eomish  priest.  Their  bards  were  silent ;  their  musicians  had 
lost  their  art ;  a  broken  harp  hung  against  the  ruined  walls  of 
Tara.  In  fierce,  blind  ignorance  from  age  to  age  they  have 
risen  in  vain  revolts  and  striven  to  be  free ;  they  have  shown 
courage  without  discretion,  magnanimity  with  little  knowledge. 
Yet  a  keen  discernment  may  still  discover  in  the  modern  Irish- 
man the  elements  of  that  character  which  produced  in  the  age 
of  Columba  and  Columban  the  purest  of  saints,  the  most  as- 
siduous of  students,  before  it  was  betrayed  and  degraded  by 
the  cruel  Popes  of  Eome.(') 

So  servile  and  so  enfeebled  has  become  the  Irish  intellect 
under  the  tyranny  of  misfortune  that  not  one  of  its  native  his- 
torians has  dared  to  trace  its  sorrows  to  their  source,  or  to  de- 
nounce in  honest  indignation  the  selfish  crimes  of  Adrian  and 
his  successors.  No  patriot  of  Ireland  has  ventured  to  curse 
the  hand  that  betrayed  his  country.(°)  Possessed  by  a  strange 
infatuation,  the  Irish  have  become  in  every  land  the  firmest 
adherents  of  the  Italian  priesthood,  the  authors  of  all  their 
woes ;  they  have  joined  in  every  bold  assault  of  Italian  Popes 
upon  modem  civilization ;  they  have  assailed  the  public  schools 
of  America,  the  new  colleges  of  their  native  land  ;  they  have 
striven  to  tear  down  those  institutions  of  freedom  under  which, 
in  the  New  World,  they  might  hope  to  regain  their  ancient 
ease  and  vigor ;  they  have  proved  everywhere  the  willing 
slaves  of  the  dying  papacy,  and  have  never  ventured  to  rebel 
against  that  spiritual  bondage  that  was  imposed  upon  them  by 
the  Normans  and  the  Popes. 

How  long  this  strange  delusion  will  continue  can  scarcely 

(')  GiraM.  Cam.  gives  the  bull  of  Adrian  (Hib.  Ex.,  ii.,  6)  without  any 
sense  of  its  injustice.     There  was  no  doubt  of  Adrian's  authority. 

(=)  Moore  thinks  it  "  a  strange  transaction."  Lanigau  (iv.,  p.  223)  is  a 
little  more  explicit ;  but  the  Irish  clergy  in  general  submit  to  the  authority 
of  Adrian  silently. 


DERMOT  IN  ENGLAND.  421 

be  told.  Yet  the  descendants  of  the  companions  of  Patrick 
and  Columba,  of  the  victims  of  Adrian  and  Dermot,  can  not 
always  remain  the  dupes  of  their  destroyers ;  and  it  is  possi- 
ble that  in  the  careful  study  of  the  annals  of  their  country  the 
Irish  may  discover  some  vigorous  impulse  that  shall  lead  them 
to  value  once  more  freedom,  education,  and  a  liberal  faith. 

Dermot  Macmorrough  in  his  distress  had  fled  to  the  court 
of  Henry  II.,  had  received  his  permission  to  enlist  his  subjects 
in  the  expedition  against  Ireland,  and  had  engaged  Richard 
Strongbow,  of  the  somewhat  decayed  family  of  the  Clares, 
Earls  of  Pembroke,  to  lead  the  invading  force.  Richard  was 
to  marry  Eva,  Dermot's  daugliter,  and  to  inherit  the  princi- 
pality of  Leinster.(')  But  the  promised  bridegroom  was  slow 
in  his  preparations,  and  Dermot  glowed  with  fiery  ardor  to 
tread  once  more  the  fair  fields  of  Leinster,  and  disturb  the 
repose  of  his  enemies.  He  hired,  therefore,  Robert  Fitz-Ste- 
phen  and  the  family  of  the  Fitzgeralds  to  join  his  enterprise, 
and,  when  they  still  delayed,  set  out  alone  for  his  native  land. 
It  was  August,  1168,  when  the  traitor  took  ship  at  the  prom- 
ontory of  St.  David's ;  a  fair  wind  blew  from  the  east  over 
the  tranquil  sea,  and  bore  him  safely  to  the  hostile  coast.  Why 
no  fierce  hurricane  sunk  his  fragile  bark,  whirlpool  dragged 
him  down  to  the  caves  of  the  ocean,  or  raging  storm  wrecked 
him,  where  so  many  innocent  have  perished,  on  the  lonely 
wilds  of  Leinster,  Irishmen  may  well  wonder ;  but  Dermot, 
bearing  ruin  in  his  path,  landed  safely  at  Glass-Carrig,  a  little 
creek  near  Wexford,  and,  hiding  in  woods  and  wastes,  escaped 
the  eyes  of  his  enemies,  and  was  concealed  through  the  winter 
by  the  clergy  and  bishop  at  Ferns. 

In  1168-69  various  circumstances  had  conspired  to  weaken 
the  unity  of  the  Irish  people :  the  ravages  of  the  Danes  had 
sw^ept  away  many  of  the  institutions  of  learning  ;(^)  the  cruel 
necessities  of  warfare  had  aroused  the  baser  passions  of  the 
race;  internal  strife  was  frequent;  the  princes  had  become 

(')  Hib.  Ex.,  ix.,  p.  3  :  "  Stepbanides  vero  cum  suis  se  ad  insultum  acriter 
preparantes." 

(-)  Gordon,  Hist.  Ireland ;  O'Connor,  Hist.  Ireland ;  Moore,  Hist.  Ireland. 


422  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

savage  and  corrupt ;  the  Danish  settlements  had  accepted  Rom- 
ish bishops,  and  for  the  first  time  an  archbishop  graced  with 
the  pallium  of  Rome  sat  in  the  chair  of  Patrick  at  Armagh ; 
tlie  Irish  Church  was  divided  by  the  intrigues  of  the  corrupt 
Italians,  although  it  still  refused  to  pay  tribute  to  Rome  or 
confonn  to  the  Roman  ritual ;  and  a  cloud  of  gloom  and  dan- 
ger seemed  to  hover  around  the  island  home  of  the  last  of  the 
Celtic  races. 

The  traitor,  meantime,  had  not  been  idle,  and  in  the  spring, 
when  the  green  meadows  glowed  once  more  with  fresh  flow- 
ers, and  the  forests  were  thick  with  leaves,  Dermot,  at  the 
head  of  a  few  natives,  or  strangers  from  Wales,  crept  serpent- 
like from  his  hiding-place  and  began  to  ravage  his  native 
land.  But  the  Irish,  led  by  O'Roric,  fell  upon  him  with  vig- 
or, and  he  fled  back  to  his  refuge  in  the  woods.  It  was  an 
important  opportunity  lost  forever.  Had  the  Irish  pursued 
him  to  his  covert,  and  cut  him  down  with  his  followers,  the 
country  might  have  been  saved,  and  the  Normans  would 
scarcely  have  ventured  to  cross  the  dangerous  seas.  But  they 
chose  to  accept  his  treacherous  submission,  his  gold,  and  his 
professions,  and  suffered  him  to  retain  a  small  portion  of  his 
former  territory.  Dermot  swore  fealty  to  Roderic,  King  of 
Ireland,  and  awaited  until  the  approach  of  his  foreign  allies 
should  enable  him  to  destroy  the  freedom  of  his  country. 
In  May,  1169,  Robert  Fitz-Stephen,  with  several  Fitzgeralds, 
landed  at  Banne,  a  small  promontory  near  "Wexford ;  forty 
knights  clad  in  complete  armor,  and  a  band  of  a  few  hun- 
dred men  at  arms  and  archers  accompanied  them ;  a  slight  in- 
trenchnient  was  thrown  up  to  protect  them  from  the  Irish ; 
and  the  place  is  still  pointed  out  where  the  ships  of  Fitz- 
Stephen  were  sheltered  among  the  rocks,  and  the  ruin  of  Ire- 
land began.(') 

Dermot,  with  savage  joy,  came  out  from  his  forests  once 
more,  to  greet  his  foreign  allies,  to  promise  them  the  town  of 
Wexford  and  ample  lands  as  the  reward  of  victory ;(')  and 

(')  Some  doubt  exists  as  to  the  exact  place  of  the  laudiug.  Tiaditiou 
points  to  Bauue. 

C)  Hauiuer,  p.  223-^231. 


IRISH  VALOR.  423 

again  his  hoarse  battle-cry  resounded  in  various  contests  along 
the  Wexford  shore.  Forty  Norman  knights,  in  bright  and 
impenetrable  armor,  attended  by  their  men  at  arms  with  flash- 
ing swords,  and  a  troop  of  the  famous  archers  of  Wales,  drove 
in  the  Irish  forces  and  besieged  the  prosperous  city.  Like 
pillars  of  steel,  with  lance  and  falchion,  the  Geraldines,  skilled 
in  all  knightly  exercises,  pierced  the  thick  masses  of  the  na- 
tives ;  the  Irish  had  only  battle-axes  of  steel,  sharp  arrows,  and 
short  pikes,  a  small  shield  of  wood  and  a  wadded  vest ;  the 
shock  was  too  unequal,  and  the  Geraldines  conquered  in  ev- 
ery fray.  Wexford  was  taken  or  betrayed  by  its  bishop ;  the 
invaders  pressed  into  Ossory,  along  the  gentle  banks  of  the 
Nore  ;  the  Irish  fought  with  desperate  vigor  among  their  bogs 
and  forests,  but  the  Xormans  chased  them  to  the  open  fields 
and  cut  them  down  with  fierce  delight.  Dermot's  hoarse  war- 
cry  was  now  one  of  exultation.  Two  hundred  of  the  enemies' 
heads  lay  trunkless  on  the  battle-field.  The  savage  hunted 
amidst  the  strange  trophies  for  the  face  of  his  chief  foe,  and, 
when  he  had  found  it,  gnawed  and  mangled  it  with  his  teeth.(') 
Scarcely  would  it  be  profitable  to  review  these  barbarous 
skirmishes  of  the  bearded  natives  and  the  steel-clad  knights 
in  the  wild  forests  of  Ossory,  did  they  not  form  part  of  that 
remarkable  chain  of  events  by  which  the  whole  current  of  hu- 
manity has  been  stirred,  and  the  Celts  driven  from  their  na- 
tive land  to  swarm  over  the  ocean  to  the  New  World  and  con- 
trol the  elections  of  New  York.  For  the  barbarian  Dermot 
and  his  cruel  allies  were  only  the  leaders  in  a  great  crusade, 
which  the  Popes  had  planned  and  Henry  Plantagenet  had 
been  chosen  to  execute.  The  blessings  of  the  Church  attend- 
ed them ;  they  were  fighting  the  battles  of  the  papacy ;  and 
the  giant  Dermot,  mangling  and  tearing  the  features  of  his 
foe,  might  have  furnished  to  Spenser  a  happy  allegory  by 
which  to  paint  in  melodious  verse  the  acrid  bigotry  of  Rome 
tearing  the  rebellious  Church  of  St.  Patrick ;  or  it  may  well 
have  suggested  to  Dante  the  most  terrible  scene  in  the  "  In- 
ferno," where  Ugolino  banquets  on  his  perj)etual  revenge. 

(')  Girald.,  Hib.  Ex. ;  Gorclou,  Hist.  Ireland,  i.,  p.  74  et  seq. 


424  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

The  news  of  the  landing  of  the  Normans  and  the  double 
treachery  of  Dermot  aroused  all  Ireland.(')  The  nation  sprung 
to  arms.  An  assembly  was  summoned  to  the  sacred  hill  of 
Tara,  and  princes,  chiefs,  and  people  met  in  a  solemn  council 
on  the  spot  most  dear  to  the  memory  of  Irishmen.^)  There 
Patrick  had  preached  to  the  pagan  host.  There  was  the  Stone 
of  Destiny,  on  which  the  Irish  kings  had  been  crowned  for 
endless  generations.  There  the  O'Neils,  the  MacCarthys,  and 
the  O'Connors  had  sworn  to  preserve  the  liberties  and  the 
laws  of  their  country.  In  the  national  assemblies  at  Tara 
from  age  to  age  the  accomplished  bards  of  Ireland,  in  every 
moment  of  danger,  had  awakened  the  martial  ardor  of  their 
race  by  reciting  in  wild  bursts  of  poetic  fancy  the  patriotic  le- 
gends of  the  Great  O'Neil  or  of  Brian  Born,  and  the  sweetest 
melodies  of  countless  hai-pers  had  ever  ascended  from  the  sa- 
cred hill,  rousing  to  boundless  self-devotion  the  impulsive  nat- 
ures of  the  gifted  Celts.(^)  Nor,  we  may  well  imagine,  were 
,any  of  these  stirring  elements  wanting  to  the  last  great  as- 
sembly of  united  Irishmen.  Eoderic  O'Connor,  King  of  all 
Ireland,  presided.  The  princes  of  Connaught  and  Ulster,  Mun- 
ster  and  Leinster,  sat  around  their  national  chief ;  messengers 
had  been  dispatched  to  the  farthest  limits  of  the  island,  call- 
ing its  leaders  to  arms;  and  one  traitor  alone  was  absent, 
whose  treachery  and  crime  were  known  to  all  his  country- 
men. Poets  chanted  to  the  enraged  and  startled  people  their 
sublimest  lyrics,  denouncing  the  traitorous  prince,  and  a  thou- 
sand harps  clanged,  as  with  rapid  touch  warriors  and  princes 
struck  their  strings  and  made  ready  for  battle.  It  was  unani- 
mously resolved  that  the  whole  force  of  the  nation  should  be 
gathered,  and  a  perj)etual  war  be  waged  against  the  foreigner 

(')  Gerald.,  Hib.  Ex. :  "  Auditis  itaque  per  insulam  novis  successibus." 

(■)  Leland,  Hist.,  i.,  p.  36. 

(')  So  eminent  was  the  Irish  bard  that  his  wife  might  dress  as  fine  al- 
most as  a  princess.  She  was  allowed,  according  to  the  Brehon  laws,  orna- 
ments worth  three  cows ;  the  princess,  six  cows.  A  cow  was  the  standard 
of  value  in  early  Ireland.  See  Vallancej-,  Collect.  Aut.  Laws,  i.,  p.  20.  A 
poet  laureate  was  allowed  five  cows  for  fine  clothes.  It  seems  the  Irish 
■were  restricted  by  sumptuary  lawa. 


EODERIC   O'CONNOR.  425 

and  Dermot,  the  ISTormans'  friend.  A  vast  host  poured  into 
the  fields  of  Leinster,  led  by  the  King  of  Ireland,  and  Dermot 
and  the  Normans,  dismayed  and  disheartened,  fled  to  a  wild 
fastness  among  the  marshes  of  Ferns,  where  they  intrenched 
themselves  by  felling  trees,  digging  deep  trenches,  and  hiding 
in  impenetrable  retreats. 

Roderic  O'Connor,  of  the  ancient  line  of  Connanght,  was 
the  last  king  who  sat  on  the  throne  of  Celtic  Ireland,  His 
character  and  exploits  are  painted  with  no  flattering  hand  by 
the  monkish  writers,  who  longed  for  his  destruction,  or  later 
historians,  who  have  written  in  the  interest  of  the  Koman 
Church.  All  the  crimes  and  woes  of  a  fated  CEdipus  are  at- 
tributed to  the  unhappy  king  who  ventured  to  strike  a  last 
blow  for  the  freedom  of  Ireland,  who  resisted  with  obdurate 
patriotism  the  steel-clad  legions  of  the  Pope  and  Henry  II., 
and  who  more  than  once  seems  to  have  been  on  the  eve  of  a 
final  triumph.  It  is  said  that  Roderic  was  thrown  into  chains 
by  his  father,  who  feared  his  savage  temper ;  that  he  put  out 
the  eyes  of  his  two  brothers ;  and  that  he  wasted  in  civil  feuds 
the  forces  that  should  have  been  turned  against  the  foe.  He 
seems,  indeed,  to  have  wanted  prudence,  and  too  often  to  have 
been  deceived  by  the  treacherous  arts  of  Dermot  and  the 
priests.  Yet  one  can  not  avoid  reviewing  with  sympathy  the 
story  of  the  unhappy  monarch  whose  disastrous  reign  was  at 
least  marked  by  a  sincere  patriotism,  and  whose  misfortunes 
were  never  merited  by  his  treachery  or  his  servile  fear. 
Amidst  his  savage  wilds  and  ancestral  forests,  the  O'Connor, 
terrified  by  novel  dangers,  assailed  by  the  most  powerful  mon- 
arch of  the  age,  exposed  to  the  anathemas  of  the  Italian 
Church,  surrounded  by  traitors,  and  scarcely  safe  from  the  in- 
trigues of  his  own  sons  or  his  ambitious  rivals,  still  maintained 
a  spirit  not  unworthy  of  that  long  line  of  patriotic  chiefs  of 
whom  he  was  destined  to  be  the  last ;  and  it  is  a  graceful  trait 
in  the  character  of  Roderic  that  he  strove  once  more  to  revive, 
by  liberal  endowments,  the  famous  College  of  Armagh,  as  if 
conscious  that  Ireland  could  only  hope  to  secure  its  freedom 
by  a  general  education  of  its  people. 

At  the  head  of  his  gallant  army,  Roderic  surrounded  the 


426  TEE  CONQUEST  OF  IFxELAND. 

Normans  in  their  secret  liicling-place,  and  by  liis  immense  su- 
periority might  have  forced  them  to  surrender.  Dermot's 
Irisli  allies  in  this  moment  of  danger  deserted  him.  His  cause 
seemed  lost.  His  cowardly  flight  to  the  forest  had  checked 
his  tide  of  success ;  but  his  cunning  had  not  failed  him,  and 
once  more  he  applied  himself  to  negotiation.  The  cautious 
Roderic  was,  perhaps,  misled  by  priests  or  bishops  to  spare  the 
traitor,  or  may  have  feared  to  press  the  Normans  to  a  desper- 
ate battle.  Dermot  took  a  new  oath  of  allegiance  to  his  na- 
tion's king ;  gave  his  favorite  son,  Connor,  as  a  hostage,  who 
was  to  marry  Eoderic's  daughter ;  and  came  out  from  his  fast- 
ness to  rule  over  Leinster,  and  to  invite  new  bands  of  foreign- 
ers to  assail  the  monarch  he  had  sworn  to  obey.  The  Irish 
league  was  broken  by  internal  dissension,  and  in  the  last  sad 
hours  of  their  country's  freedom  the  unhappy  race  was  torn 
by  civil  strife.(') 

Dermot  now  resolved  to  drive  Eoderic  from  his  throne,  and 
become  himself  the  master  of  Ireland.(°)  He  had  pledged  him- 
self to  his  countrymen  to  invite  over  no  more  strangers.  He 
kept  his  oath  by  sending  at  once  for  Eichard  Strongbow. 
"  We  have  watched  the  storks  and  swallows,"  he  wrote ;  *'  the 
summer  birds  are  come  and  gone,  yet  you  delay."  Fair  Eva 
was  soon  to  see  her  promised  bridegroom,  and  the  earl,  allured 
by  Dermot's  offer  of  a  kingdom,  sent  over  a  small  force  and 
prepared  himself  to  cross  the  sea.  Led  by  Eaymond  Fitz- 
gerald, the  Normans  cut  to  pieces  an  army  of  three  thousand 
Irish  who  had  issued  from  the  great  city  of  "Waterford ;  and 
when  Earl  Eichard  arrived,  in  August,  with  twelve  hundred 
men,  the  city  was  taken  by  a  desperate  assault.  The  citizens 
lay  slaughtered  in  heaps.  Eeginald's  tower,  whose  ruin  still 
overhangs  the  modern  town,  was  captured,  and  its  garrison  put 
to  death  ;  and  amidst  the  dreadful  scene  of  waste  and  carnage 
Eva  was  given  to  the  sanguinary  Eichard,  and  the  joy  of  the 


(')  Eoderic  iu  vaiu  told  the  Normans  all  tlie  crimes  of  Dermot.  Hau- 
mer,  p.  2:U. 

(^)  Lanigaii,  Eec.  Hist.,  whose  epithets  give  no  high  idea  of  the  taste  of 
the  Uiiiversitj-  of  Pavia,  never  spares  Dermot,  iv.,  p.  191. 


DUJBLIX  TAKEX.  427 

wedding  festival  succeeded  to  the  unparalleled  horrors  of  the 
assault. 

A  nobler  conquest  followed .  In  bold  array,  with  banners  fly- 
ing, the  whole  army  marched  to  the  siege  of  Dublin.  Found- 
ed or  renewed  by  the  Danes,  the  metropolis  of  Ireland  was 
already — in  the  twelfth  century — the  centre  of  commerce,  in 
wealth  and  power  the  rival  of  London  itself.  Asgal,  tlie  Dane, 
was  its  civic  ruler,  or  king ;  its  bishop  the  famous  Lawrence 
O'Toole ;  and  the  latter,  whether  hopeless  of  resistance  or  in- 
clined to  the  papal  interest,  formed  a  treaty  and  a  truce  with 
the  powerful  invaders.(')  But  the  Normans,  eager  for  plun- 
der, unscrupulous  and  daring,  broke  into  the  city  before  the 
terms  were  settled,  and  filled  it  with  bloodshed  and  terror. 
The  needy  Geraldines  grew  rich  by  a  general  robbery.  Asgal 
and  the  Danish  citizens  escaped  in  their  ships  to  the  western 
isles,  and  the  Normans  with  resistless  vigor  swept  over  the 
neighboring  districts,  and  ravaged  the  fertile  fields  of  Meath. 

In  this  moment  of  their  country's  humiliation  the  native 
clergy  of  Ireland,  representatives  of  that  ancient  Church  which 
was  soon  to  be  dissijDated  forever,  met  in  a  convocation  at 
Armagh  to  consult  upon  the  causes  of  their  misfortunes. 
With  something  of  the  simple  honesty  and  love  of  justice 
that  had  marked  the  followers  of  Patrick  or  Columba,  the 
pious  assembly  inquired,  through  long  and  careful  deliljera- 
tions,  why  divine  vengeance  had  sent  the  foreigners  into  their 
country,  and  which  of  their  sins  had  chiefly  merited  the  judg- 
ment from  above.  They  determined  that  their  chief  national 
crime  was  the  slave-trade.  The  Irish  had  long  been  accus- 
tomed to  purchase  Saxon  slaves  from  England :  was  it  not  a 
retribution  from  Heaven  that  their  own  people  were  now  re- 
duced to  the  same  condition?  The  enormity  of  their  guilt 
struck  the  sacred  spiod,  and  a  generous  decree  was  issued  and 
published  throughout  the  land  that   every  English   captive 


(■)  Girald.,  Hib.  Ex.,  16, 17:  "Et  intervenientc  prrecipue  laudabilis  me- 
moria,  Laurentio."  The  praises  of  the  Normans  must  throw  doubt  on  the 
patriotism  of  the  archbishop.  Yet  he  is  extravagantly  lauded  by  most 
Irish  historians. 


428  THE   CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

should  be  at  once  set  free.  It  is  curious  to  remember  that  in 
our  recent  civil  war  the  Irish,  in  obedience  to  their  Italian 
masters,  were  always  on  the  side  of  the  slave-holders;  that 
their  votes  were  always  given  against  the  Government  in  its 
greatest  distress;  and  that  to  defend  slavery  and  the  slave- 
trade  they  had  nearly  destroyed  those  free  institutions  beneath 
whose  shelter  they  had  found  a  tranquil  home.  They  forgot 
the  synod  of  Armagh;  they  were  ignorant  of  the  story  of 
their  ancestors ;  they  strove  at  once,  in  their  blindness,  to  ruin 
themselves  and  desolate  the  land  that  of  all  the  world  alone 
offered  them  a  o-enerous  welcome ! 

Unlike  his  degenerate  descendants,  Roderic  O'Connor  made 
a  last  effort  for  a  free  Church  and  a  free  State.  He  denounced, 
in  a  vigorous  proclamation,  the  traitor  Dermot  and  his  papal 
crusade;  he  began  to  collect  the  last  army  of  Ireland;  and 
when  Dermot  insolently  claimed,  in  reply,  the  sovereignty  of 
the  whole  country,  Roderic  put  to  death  his  son  Connor,  and 
declared  an  inexpiable  war.(')  Meantime  dangers  again  thick- 
ened around  the  Norman  invaders.  They  held  the  three 
cities,  Dublin,  Wexford,  and  AVaterford;  but  the  open  country 
was  probably  hostile,  and  they  must  have  relied  upon  England 
for  their  supplies.  At  tliis  moment  Henry  II,  grew  jealous 
of  the  designs  of  Earl  Richard,  who  seemed  by  his  marriage 
with  Dermot's  daughter  to  aspire  to  an  independent  crown, 
forbade  the  English  to  send  him  any  aid,  and  ordered  him  to 
return.  For  two  months  the  small  garrison  in  Dublin  were 
without  any  assistance  from  their  countrymen.  Famine  op- 
pressed them ;  the  people  were  hostile ;  their  hopes  and  their 
resources  faded  away ;  when  suddenly  a  great  fleet  of  Danish 
vessels  entered  the  harbor,  and  Asgal,  with  a  large  force  of 
Norwegians  from  the  western  isles,  surrounded  the  famished 
city.  The  red  shields  and  shirts  of  mail  of  the  strangers,  their 
steel  battle-axes  and  shai*})  spears,  were  seen  before  the  eastern 
gate.  They  were  men  of  iron  hearts  and  tried  courage ;  and 
when  the  Normans  made  a  desperate  sally,  with  their  usual 

(')  Girakl.,  Hib.  Ex. ;  The  Four  Masters'  Anuals,  O'Donovan,  ed.  Dublin, 
1854,  ii.,  p.  1185  et  seq. 


THE  NOEMAXS  IX  DUBLIN.  429 

vigor,  they  were  beaten  back  with  considerable  loss.  The  city 
must  have  fallen  had  not  a  Xomian  knight  surprised  the 
tumultuous  enemy  by  an  attack  in  the  rear.  A  general  pan- 
ic seized  them ;  they  fled  to  their  ships,  routed  and  broken ; 
Asgal,  King  of  Dublin,  was  captured  as  he  fled  over  the  sands 
to  the  sea,  and  was  beheaded  in  the  city  where  he  had  once 
reigned  over  a  prosperous  community. 

Cruel,  daring,  desperate,  the  small  band  of  I^oi*mans,  led  by 
Earl  Eichard  and  the  Geraldines,  cut  off  from  the  aid  of  their 
countrymen,  abandoned  by  their  jealous  king,  now  clung  with 
the  remorseless  energy  of  robbers  to  the  prey  that  seemed 
escaping  from  their  grasp.  They  knew  that  the  Irish  were 
rising  on  all  sides  around  them ;  they  felt  the  universal  hatred 
of  the  land  they  had  ravaged  and  plundered ;  yet  not  one  of 
the  guilty  knights  faltered  in  his  aim,  or  thought  for  a  mo- 
ment of  the  sorrows  of  the  people  he  had  ruined,  or  of  the 
dangers  that  hung  over  himself.  Chief  of  the  robber  band. 
Earl  Kichard,  founder  of  the  noble  house  of  Clare — tall,  rud- 
dy, freckled,  his  eyes  gray,  his  voice  weak,  his  manner  gentle 
and  undecided  except  when  the  fierce  rage  of  battle  stirred 
him — ruled  over  Dublin.  By  his  side  stood  Maurice  Fitzger- 
ald, the  spotless  knight,  modest,  fair,  generous,  courteous,  the 
famous  ancestor  of  the  earls  of  Kildare  and  Desmond,  but 
whose  savage  courage  and  unsparing  cruelty  were  known 
chiefly  to  the  helpless  Irish ;  and  Raymond,  whose  yellow 
curls  and  florid  face,  pleasant  countenance  and  laughing  eyes, 
were  joined  to  a  vigilance  that  never 'was  deceived  and  a  res- 
olution that  never  wavered.  A  hundred  kniglits,  perhaps,  of 
less  renown,  and  four  hundred  archers  and  men  at  arms,  made 
up  the  remainder  of  the  garrison  who  were  assembled  in  Dub- 
lin at  this  eventful  hour,  and  who,  with  ferocious  severity,  re- 
strained the  angr}'  ;population  of  the  city  they  had  sacked  and 
captured,  and  awaited,  in  the  midst  of  the  hostile  kingdom, 
the  general  onset  of  its  people. 

One  friend  alone  had.  welcomed  the  Normans  to  the  shores 
of  Ireland,  but  he  was  now  gone  to  some  undiscovered  place 
of  rest  for  the  traitor,  to  the  scorn  and  hatred  of  posterity. 
A  judgment  from  above,  it  was  believed,  had  at  last  fallen 


430  THE   coy  QUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

upon  Dermot ;  his  huge  frame  was  torn  and  con-upted  by  a 
disease  so  terrible  as  to  drive  all  men  from  his  presence ;  his 
agony  had  been  noted  with  joy  by  his  countrymen ;  his  mind 
gave  way ;  he  died  without  any  of  the  solaces  of  religion  ;  but 
horrible  imprecations  escaped  his  lips  as  he  passed  away,  and 
his  traitorous  soul  fled,  disconsolate,  from  the  land  it  had 
plunged  into  ruin.(') 

It  is  possible  that  the  ingratitude  or  the  contempt  of  the 
Norman  knights  may  have  clouded  the  last  days  of  the  Prince 
of  Leinster ;  that  some  patriotic  thought  may  have  touched 
his  impulsive  nature  ;  that  he  may  have  resisted  the  I^orman 
projects  for  exterminating  the  Irish,  and  have  wavered  in  his 
friendship  to  his  foreign  allies.  Earl  Richard  may  have  been 
too  eager  to  wear  the  crown  of  Leinster,  and  his  fellow-plun- 
derers to  appropriate  the  last  hoards  of  Dermot's  treasure ; 
and  the  fierce  barbarian,  stung  by  their  faithlessness,  may 
have  died  cursing  the  strangers  whom  he  had  nourished  into 
greatness.  But  to  all  Irishmen  the  example  of  Dermot  should 
be  a  lesson  and  a  warning.  While  they  survey  the  long  cent- 
uries of  unparalleled  woes  which  his  treason  has  entailed  upon 
his  country,  while  they  heap  imprecations  on  his  name,  and 
blast  his  memory  with  infamy,  they  must  remember  that  he 
was  only  the  ignorant  instrument  in  fulfilling  the  long- cher- 
ished designs  of  the  Italian  Popes  upon  the  spiritual  independ- 
ence of  Ireland. 

Once  more  Eoderic  O'Connor  descended  from  his  fastness 
of  Connaught.  Around  him  were  gathered  a  throng  of  na- 
tive chiefs  and  an  army  of  thirty  thousand  men ;  and  it  seem- 
ed a  happy  omen  for  the  success  of  the  expedition  that  the 
Bishop  of  Dublin,  Lawrence  O'Toole,  had  abandoned  his  IS'or- 
man  associates,  and  entered  with  patriotic  ardor  into  the  plans 
of  his  native  king.('}  The  bishop's  eloquence  and  pious  fame 
stirred  the  dying  hopes  of  his  countrymen  ;  the  Irish  presby- 


(')  Four  Masters,  p.  1171,  describe  his  painful  death.  Gerald  merely  says 
he  died  full  of  years. 

(=)  Girald.,  Hib.  Ex. :  "Missis  qunque  Uteris  tarn  Archipriesulis  quam 
Rotherici  Connactiensis." 


THE  IRISH   UNITE.  431 

ters  preached  through  all  their  parishes  a  holy  eriisade  against 
the  papal  invaders ;  an  army  and  a  fleet,  led  by  the  king  of 
the  western  isles,  joined  the  national  forces,  and  the  whole 
mighty  host  sat  down  to  besiege  Dublin.  Earl  Richard  had 
thrown  himself  into  the  beleaguered  city ;  Maurice  and  Ray- 
mond, with  unflinching  courage,  stood  at  his  side.  Yet  the 
earl,  as  he  surveyed  the  long  lines  of  the  Irish  army  inclosing 
him  on  every  hand,  the  masts  of  the  Danish  fleet  rising  over 
the  banks  of  the  Lifl^ey,  the  red  shields  and  flowing  locks,  the 
stalwart  forms  and  iron  armor,  of  the  brave  Norwegians, 
might  well  believe  that  all  was  lost.  His  few  bold  knights 
and  followers  were  faint  from  famine  and  toil.  For  two 
months  no  supplies  of  food  or  arms  had  reached  them.  As 
they  rode  through  the  streets  of  the  half-dei^opulated  city  they 
might  hear  the  low  imprecations  of  the  Irish  and  the  wail  of 
the  suffering  people.  Incessant  vigils  must  have  taxed  their 
strength ;  rider  and  steed  grew  feeble  in  the  general  need  ; 
and  Earl  Richard,  doubtful  of  the  result,  sent  to  oiier  terms 
to  tlie  enemy.  He  proposed  to  become  Roderic's  vassal,  and 
to  hold  Leinster  as  an  Irish  prince. 

But  Roderic  replied  that  unless  the  Normans  abandoned 
Dublin,  Waterford,  and  Wexford,  and  would  consent  to  leave 
Ireland  forever,  he  would  at  once  assault  the  city.  The  Nor- 
mans hesitated.  In  the  midst  of  their  distress  a  fugitive 
reached  the  city,  a  son  of  the  late  King  Dermot.  He  bore 
sad  news :  that  Roljert  Fitz  -  Stephen  was  shut  up,  with  his 
wife  and  children  and  a  few  soldiers,  in  a  small  fort  of  turf  or 
timber ;  that  the  people  of  Leinster  were  rising ;  that  the  life 
of  every  Norman  was  in  danger. 

Then,  remorseless  and  desperate,  the  Geraldines  resolved  to 
conquer  or  to  perish.  Young,  vigorous,  torn  by  the  evil  im- 
pulses of  avarice  and  of  ambition,  the  Norman  robbers  gath- 
ered their  scanty  force  in  the  centre  of  Dublin,  prepared  to 
rush  upon  the  foe.  Before  them  lay  the  plunder  of  a  peace- 
ful country  ;  behind  them  shame  and  death.  "  We  are  hated 
equally  by  Irish  and  English,"  cried  Maurice  to  his  compan- 
ions. "We  have  no  refuge  but  victory.  Remember  your 
former  triumphs ;  renew  your  ancient  courage.     Let  us  ride 


432  THE   CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

over  this  miserable  rabble,  and  enisli  them  to  the  earth."(') 
Ra3'mond,  ever  hopeful,  repeated  the  sentiments  of  his  cous- 
in ;  and  every  Norman  knight,  from  his  raised  viso;-,  sternly 
gave  his  approval.  It  was  determined  to  attack  first  the  great 
army  of  lioderic.  Not  Cortez,  when  he  cut  his  way  to  the 
palace  of  Guatemozin,  nor  Clive  when  he  broke  the  ranks  of 
Plassey,  fought  at  greater  disadvantage  than  did  Eichard,  Ray- 
mond, and  Maurice  in  the  final  battle  at  Dublin. 

Twenty  knights,  or  men  at  arms,  went  first,  led  by  Ray- 
mond ;(')  thirty,  under  Miles  de  Cogan,  followed  ;  the  rear, 
composed  of  forty  more,  was  commanded  by  Maurice  and 
Earl  Richard ;  six  hundred  archers,  citizens,  esquires,  com- 
pleted the  army  of  the  invaders.  Yet  wonderful  was  the  re- 
sult of  this  desperate  charge,  as,  through  an  oi:)en  gate,  the 
Normans  poured  like  a  stream  of  fire  upon  the  army  of  King 
Roderic,  surprised  his  guards,  and  chased  his  followers,  in 
wild  panic,  to  their  woods  and  bogs.  The  king  himself  was 
nearly  captured  while  bathing ;  negligence  and  disorder  reign- 
ed throughout  the  Irish  lines ;  the  Norman  knights  cut  down 
the  enemy  at  will  upon  the  fatal  plain  ;  the  Norwegians  fled ; 
and  late  in  the  evening,  wearied  with  slaughter,  laden  with 
the  plunder  of  the  hostile  camp,  the  Norman  conquerors 
rode  into  the  streets  of  Dublin,  masters  of  the  destiny  of  Ire- 
land. 

Three  years  had  scarcely  passed  since  Dermot  Macmor- 
rough  had  planned  upon  the  cliffs  of  St.  David's  the  ruin  of 
his  country.  The  fierce  barbarian  slept  not  imavenged ;  his 
traitorous  hopes  had  been  fulfilled.  And  now  Henry  of  En- 
gland stood  with  his  fair  army  of  knights  and  retainers  on  the 
same  wild  promontory,  and,  pausing  to  pay  his  devotions  in 
that  renowned  cathedral  that  still  rises  the  central  shrine  of 
AVales,  besought,  with  unaccustomed  fervor,  the  blessings  of 
Heaven  on  his  projected  crimes.(^)     Jealous  of  the  successes 

(')  Girakl.,  Hib.  Ex.,  i.,  23 :  "  Quid  igitur  expectamns  ?"  etc.  I  have  re- 
duced tbe  eloquence  of  Maui'ice  or  Gerald. 

(-)  '"'Certatim  igitur  electa  juventus  ad  arma  frosiliens." 
(^)  Girald.,  Hib.  Ex.,  i.,  30.      Some  fragments  of  the  ancient  cathedral 
arc  supposed  to  be  included  iu  the  modern.     See  the  fine  illustrated  edi- 


HENEY  II.  433 

of  Earl  Ricliard  and  of  tlie  audacious  Geraldines,  fearful  that 
his  own  subjects  might  ravish  away  his  expected  prize,  Henry 
had  hastened  from  his  distant  domains  in  Aquitaine,  had  aban- 
doned the  pleasures  of  London  and  the  charms  of  a  ceaseless 
chase,  and  with  angry  countenance  surveyed  afar  off  the  dim- 
seen  shores  of  Ireland.  The  barbarian  Dermot  beheld  them 
with  a  fatal  affection ;  the  savage  king,  with  the  destructive 
cravings  of  a  conqueror.  His  fleet  of  four  hundred  ships 
swung  safely  at  anchor  on  the  coast  of  Wales ;  five  hundred 
knights — companions,  perhaps,  of  his  French  campaigns — and 
four  thousand  men  at  arms  attended  him  ;  his  vessels  were 
filled  with  horses,  arms,  provisions,  and  all  that  could  insure 
success.  In  October,  1171,  a  fair  wind  bore  the  papal  arma- 
da in  triumph  to  the  Irish  shore,  and  the  crusade  against  the 
Irish  Church  was  to  be  followed  out  with  all  the  brutality  of 
chivalry  and  all  the  rigors  of  spiritual  pride. 

Henry  Plantagenet  was  the  first  of  that  unhappy  line  of 
English  kings  whose  follies  and  whose  crimes  so  often  brought 
ruin  to  the  toiling  throngs  upon  whom  they  trampled.  Edu- 
cated in  the  schools  of  knightly  adventures,  trained  to  cruelty 
and  to  ambition,  the  Plantagenets  rained  war,  pestilence,  and 
famme  upon  their  unhappy  realm.  Even  the  Tudors  might 
seem  merciful,  the  Stuarts  just,  when  contrasted  with  the  Ed- 
wards and  the  Richards  who  descended  from  the  ill-starred 
union  of  Henry  II.  and  Eleanor  of  Aquitaine.  But  when  Hen- 
ry, in  the  vigor  of  manhood,  ascended  the  English  throne,  he 
was  learned,  acute,  generous ;  his  early  misfortunes  might  have 
softened  a  selfish  nature  ;  his  ambition  might  have  been  tem- 
pered by  a  higher  intelligence;  yet  every  circumstance  con- 
spired to  deprave  the  youthful  king ;  and  from  his  wife,  his 
friend,  and  his  spiritual  head  he  could  have  heard  only  the 
dreadful  lessons  of  cruelty  and  selfish  crime. 

The  conqueror  of  Ireland  stands  before  us  painted  by  one 
who  had  studied  his  features  and  his  life  with  care.  He  was 
of  moderate  height,  and  stout ;  his  head  was  large  and  round, 

tion  of  Giraldns  by  Sir  R.  Hoar,  1806,  vol.  i.,  p.  21.  There  is  a  view  of  tbe 
more  recent  cliurcb.     St.  David's  was  tlie  uatioual  shrine  of  Wales. 

28 


434  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IBELAXD. 

his  complexion  ruddy,  his  eyes  gray,  and  often  flashing  and 
blood-shot  with  anger ;  his  countenance  fiery ;  his  voice  tremu- 
lous ;  his  form  inclined  to  grossness,  yet  strengthened  by  in- 
cessant exercise.  Henry  seems  never  to  have  known  ease  or 
rest ;  some  fierce  excitement  always  stirred  him  in  peace  or 
war.  In  peace,  at  the  first  dawn  of  day,  he  would  mount  his 
fleet  horse  and  pass  the  hours  in  riding  through  woods,  pen- 
etrating the  thick  forests,  and  climbing  the  ridges  of  lofty 
hills ;  in  the  evening  he  returned  to  a  spare  supper,  but  scarce- 
ly sat  down  until  he  slept.  He  loved  to  watch  the  falcon 
sweeping  on  his  frighted  prey,  or  to  follow  the  sagacious 
hounds  in  chase  of  a  weary  stag.(')  Labor  was  the  chief 
amusement  of  the  active  king ;  but  all  his  toils  tended  only  to 
the  destruction  of  his  own  happiness  and  that  of  mankind. 
He  died  cursing  the  day  on  which  he  was  born  ;  and  his  cease- 
less labors  were  wasted  because  he  never  strove  to  place  him- 
self in  unison  with  the  pei-petual  laws  of  benevolence  and 
Truth. 

Clad  in  royal  pomp,  surrounded  by  the  knightly  paragons 
of  his  age,  Henry  landed  upon  the  shores  of  Ireland — a  regal 
falcon  fastening  upon  his  prey.  The  bleeding  land  writhed,  a 
helpless  victim,  in  his  grasp.  There  was  now  nothing  to  resist 
his  progress.  He  moved  on  in  triumph  from  Waterford  to 
Dublin.  Earl  Richard  yielded  to  his  authority,  and  soothed 
his  anger  by  humble  compliances;  and  at  Christmas,  1171, 
Henry  celebrated  his  triumph  by  a  festival  at  Dublin,  where 
many  of  the  Irish  princes  had  gathered  to  offer  him  their  sub- 
mission, and  where  a  great  assemblage  of  the  bearded  natives 
beheld  for  the  first  time  the  stately  feats  of  chivalry,  the  unac- 
customed magnificence  of  a  royal  court ;  tasted  the  rich  viands 
and  rare  wines  of  a  Korman  feast,  and  were  dazzled  by  the 
shining  armor,  the  golden  ornaments,  the  precious  gems,  and 
the  wasteful  luxury  of  their  conquerors.  A  palace  of  pol- 
ished wood  and  osiersf)  was  erected,  after  the  Irish  custom, 

(')  Girald.  Cam.,  Hib.  Ex.,  i.,  45.  Henry  was  accustomed,  to  put  out  the 
eyes  of  his  male  prisoners  and  cut  off  the  noses  of  the  female — at  least  in 
Wales. 

(-)  Roger  de  Hovedeu,  a.d.  1172. 


IRELAND  SUBJECTED   TO  ROME.  435 

and  bishops  and  princes  were  forced  to  approve  the  ceaseless 
revehy.  Yet  if  any  grave  and  thoughtful  chief,  unimpressed 
by  the  pompous  show,  ventured  to  ask  by  what  authority  Hen- 
ry had  taken  possession  of  Ireland,  he  was  told  that  the  Pope, 
as  vicar  and  head  of  the  Church,  had  given  it  to  the  king ; 
and  that  he  who  resisted  the  generous  donation  of  St.  Peter  to 
his  favorite  son  was  a  heretic,  condemned  to  everlasting  rep- 
robation. 

It  was  ever  the  aim  of  the  Poman  Church  in  these  savage 
ages — nor  does  the  policy  seem  yet  to  have  been  abandoned — 
to  set  nation  against  nation,  and  from,  the  horrid  discord  and 
general  woe  to  add  to  its  own  revenues  and  its  growing 
strength.  Henry,  conscious  of  the  claims,  the  avarice,  and  the 
malice  of  his  Italian  masters,  hastened  to  lay  Ireland  at  their 
feet.  A  council  was  summoned  at  Cashel  professing  to  rep- 
resent the  Church  of  St.  Patrick.  The  ISTorman  king  ordered 
the  bishops  of  Ireland  to  assemble.  A  motley  group  of  ^ov- 
man  priests,  of  martial  monks,  of  the  papal  archbishops,  and  a 
few  trembling  presbyters,  natives  of  the  South,  gathered  at 
his  command ;  but  it  was  noticed  that  none  of  the  bishops  of 
Ulster  or  Connaught  assisted  at  the  destruction  of  their  na- 
tional faith ;  that  they  still  adhered  to  the  usages  of  St.  John, 
of  Patrick,  and  of  Columba ;  that  the  Irish  Church,  amidst 
bogs  and  forests,  still  defied  the  ambition  of  cruel  Pome.  Yet 
the  sacrifice  was  nominally  complete.  Every  trace  of  inde- 
pendence was  abandoned  by  the  Council  of  Cashel.  The  Pom- 
ish  ritual  was  enjoined  on  every  priest ;  the  worship  of  Mary, 
of  images,  and  of  saints  was  to  extend  throughout  the  island ; 
the  priest  was  forbidden  to  marry ;  his  hair  was  to  be  tonsured 
after  the  exact  fashion  at  Pome;  the  enormous  crimes  and 
vices  of  the  simple  clergy  who  had  failed  to  observe  the  new 
customs  were  condemned  with  indignant  solemnity ;  tithes 
were  to  be  paid  by  the  laity  ;  and  Ireland  for  the  first  time 
was  made  tributary  to  the  Pomish  Pope.(') 

(')  Girald.  Cam.,  i.,  33, 34.  Eoger  de  Hoveden  iiretends  that  all  the  bish- 
ops of  Ireland  were  present  or  obeyed  the  council ;  but  Gerald  notices  only 
a  scanty  attendance,  chiefly  Norman.  Lanigan,  Ecc.  Hist.,  iv.,  p.  211,  says 
Peter-pence  are  not  mentioned.     They  were  perhaps  implied. 


436  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

"With  a  generosity  admired  by  all  except  the  unhappy  na- 
tives, Henry  next  rewarded  liberally  his  Norman  followers.(') 
The  impoverished  knights  were  enriched  by  a  general  plunder. 
The  conquered  lands  were  divided  among  the  victors,  and  the 
territory  which  had  been  given  by  St.  Peter  to  the  king  was, 
by  an  infallible  title,  now  vested  in  the  triumphant  Normans. 
The  Geraldines,  unscrupulous  offspring  of  a  disreputable  par- 
ent, founded  noble  houses  that  were  long  to  shine  illustrious 
in  the  revelries  of  the  court  or  the  crimes  of  the  camp.  The 
daughter  of  Richard  and  Eva,  laden  with  the  spoils  of  her 
country,  transmitted  the  fruits  of  Dermot's  treachery  to  the 
famous  race  of  Clare.  A  single  knight,  De  Lacy,  received 
eight  hundred  thousand  acres  of  land  in  the  province  of 
Meatli;  another,  Raymond  the  Poor,  whose  name  indicates 
his  condition,  became  a  mighty  baron,  founder  of  the  house 
of  Power.  The  English  territory  was  slowly  extended  until 
it  embraced  the  lower  portions  of  Ulster  and  Connaught,  and 
along  the  frontier  was  drawn  a  line  of  palisades  and  forts  to 
protect  the  new  settlers  from  the  fierce  assaults  of  the  hostile 
Irish. 

Within  the  palisades  the  country  was  known  as  the  English 
Pale,  and  for  many  centuries  formed  the  stronghold  of  the 
Norman  robbers,  from  whence  they  issued  in  cruel  raids  upon 
the  rebellious  districts  of  the  native  chiefs.  Its  Irish  popula- 
tion had  been  wholly  extirpated,  or  were  reduced  to  the  con- 
dition of  serfs.  Many  had  fled  to  the  mountains  and  forests, 
and  perished  in  frightful  solitudes ;  some  were  permitted  to 
return  to  till,  as  slaves,  the  lands  where  their  ancestors  had 
lived  in  prosperous  ease.  The  slow  process  of  a  national  deg- 
radation was  begun,  and  the  Irish  within  the  Pale,  after  many 
bold  uprisings,  were  trodden  down  nearly  to  the  condition  of 
savages  or  brutes.  Their  education,  their  intelligence,  passed 
away  with  their  freedom,  and  the  Normans  sedulously  en- 
forced upon  the  subject  race  the  fatal  bondage  of  superstitious 
ignorance. 

In  the  winter  of  Il71-"r2  wild  storms  swept  incessantly 

(')  Roger  de  Hoveden,  a.d.  1172,  notices  his  liberality  or  bis  robbery. 


HENRY  II.  IX  IRELAND.  437 

over  the  Irish  seas :  scarcely  a  ship  crossed  from  England. 
Henry  and  his  courtiers  trembled  before  the  rage  of  the  ele- 
ments, and  men  believed  that  the  wrath  of  Heaven  was  im- 
pending over  the  troubled  land.(')  Fear,  doubt,  and  gloom 
were  the  king's  chief  attendants  in  the  moment  of  his  suc- 
cess, and  his  liery  eyes  must  often  have  been  turned  across 
the  stormy  waves  during  that  perilous  season,  eager  to  catch 
the  first  sail  that  might  bring  him  news  from  England.  He 
had  left  his  native  realm  covered  with  the  odium  of  the  recent 
murder  of  Becket;  he  had  fled  to  Ireland  as  if  to  dissipate 
his  cares  in  new  excitements ;  and  now  he  waited  with  impa- 
tience, shut  out  by  perpetual  storms,  for  some  tidings  of  the 
results  of  his  hasty  words,  and  of  the  condition  of  his  wide 
dominions.  A  ship  at  length  came  in  bearing  the  most  omi- 
nous news.  The  Pope  had  threatened  to  lay  his  kingdom 
under  an  interdict;  the  most  fatal  of  the  judgments  of  the 
Church  might  soon  absolve  his  subjects  from  their  allegiance.^') 
To  add  to  his  distress,  he  was  told  that  his  three  sons  had 
formed  a  conspiracy  against  his  throne.  His  fond  heart  was 
torn  by  filial  ingratitude,  and  Henry  returned  from  the  con- 
quest of  Ireland  racked  by  those  domestic  griefs  and  those 
eating  cares  that  were  at  last  to  bring  his  proud  spirit  to  igno- 
minious despair. 

A  west  wind  bore  the  king  swiftly  back  to  England ;  and 
he  once  more  knelt  at  St.  David's  shrine — now  no  longer  with 
feigned  grief  and  assumed  contrition — and  prepared,  with  a 
broken  heart,  to  fight  for  his  throne  and  even  his  life  against 
his  children,  whom  he  fondly  loved ;  his  wife,  their  mother, 
whose  evil  nature  he  had  so  often  exasperated  and  wronged ; 
against  the  King  of  France,  and  the  avengers  of  Becket. 
That  Henry  should  have  triumphed  in  this  doubtful  contest 
has  always  been  held  a  proof  of  singular  ability.  His  inces- 
sant activity  enabled  him  to  surprise  or  confound  all  his  foes. 
He  drove  back  Louis  of  France  to  his  capital ;  he  met  and 


(')Girakl.  Cam.,  i.,  35. 

(■■')  Girald.  Cam.,  Hib.  Ex.,  i.,  36,  details  the  evil  news  and  the  sorrows 
of  the  barbarous  king.     Roger  de  Hovedeu,  a.d.  1172,  is  more  prolix. 


438  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

defeated  on  the  battle-field  his  three  ungrateful  sons ;  he  saw- 
Henry  and  Geoffrey  die  in  the  midst  of  their  madness;  he 
wept  over  the  early  profligacy  of  the  depraved  Eichard  and 
John.  Eleanor  of  Aqmtaine,(')  shut  up  in  a  solitary  castle,  her 
husband's  prisoner,  had  leisure  to  repent  of  her  crimes  against 
two  kings.  The  Pope  was  pacified  by  enormous  bribes,  abject 
concessions,  and  by  the  spectacle  of  bleeding  Ireland  prostrate 
at  St.  Peter's  feet. 

Meantime  the  Normans,  inclosed  in  a  narrow  territory, 
found  that  the  conquest  of  the  island  was  but  just  begun.  A 
few  abject  and  unworthy  bishops  might  declare  at  Casliel  that 
Henry  was  the  rightful  lord  of  Ireland,  but  Eoderic  O'Connor 
still  scoffed  at  the  pretensions  of  his  rival,  and  the  Irish  pres- 
bj'ters  rejected  the  authority  of  the  unpatriotic  synod.  All 
was  disorder  and  unrest  within  the  English  Pale.  The  native 
chiefs  seldom  left  the  I^ormans  any  repose.  At  length  Hen- 
ry, when  his  affairs  were  somewhat  settled  in  England,  re- 
solved to  test  the  effect  of  superstition  upon  the  savage  race, 
and  to  launch  the  thunders  of  the  Romish  popes  against  the 
Irish  patriots.  He  had  procured  from  Alexander  III.  a  con- 
firmation of  the  bull  of  Adrian  excommunicating  all  who  op- 
posed his  authority  over  Ireland,  and  he  now  prepared  to  pub- 
lish the  two  solemn  decrees,  in  their  full  enormity,  to  all  its 
schismatical  Church.  He  fondly  hoped  that  no  Irish  bishop 
or  priest  would  venture  henceforth  to  resist  the  authority  of 
the  Roman  See.Q 

A  new  synod  was  assembled  at  Waterford  in  11Y5,  and  the 
two  bulls  were  read  to  the  corrupt  archbishops,  the  Norman 
monks,  and  a  feeble  delegation  from  the  Irish  Church.  In 
sonorous  tones,  John  of  Salisbury,  Bishop  of  Chartres,  who  had 
come  from  Rome  bearing  the  final  decree  of  Alexander,  re- 
cited the  doom  of  Ireland.     The  first  bull,  that  of  Adrian  IV., 

(')  She  was  daughter  of  William,  Duke  of  Aquitaiiie,  the  heiress  of  his 
great  possessions,  the  wife  of  Louis  aud  of  Henry — the  least  fortunate  of 
women. 

(^)  Lanigan,  Ecc.  Hist.,  iv.,  p.  233,  has  an  implied  condemnation  of  Adri- 
an's Trail.  He  can  not  admit  the  coarse  charges  made  by  the  popes  against 
the  Irish  clergy. 


TEE  POPE'S  BULL.  439 

had  been  granted  to  Henry  twenty  years  before,  and  had  been 
safely  kept  in  the  royal  treasury  of  England  until  the  moment 
seemed  favorable  for  its  publication.  Under  a  florid  profes- 
sion of  Christian  zeal  it  contained  a  bitter  denunciation  of  the 
Irish  Church.Q  It  appointed  Henry  a  martial  missionary  to 
extirpate  the  seeds  of  vice  from  Ireland,  and  do  whatever  he 
thought  proper  with  its  people ;  it  declared  the  island  a  part 
of  the  patrimony  of  St.  Peter ;{')  it  commanded  the  people  to 
receive  Henry  as  their  sovereign  lord  and  ruler ;  it  insisted, 
with  strenuous  avarice,  that  every  house  in  the  land  sliould 
pay  a  penny  annually  to  the  blessed  Peter,  and  promised  Hen- 
ry the  favor  of  Heaven  and  an  illustrious  renownQ  should  he 
succeed  in  planting  true  religion  in  the  home  of  Patrick  and 
Columba.  Alexander's  bull  was  still  more  effective,  if  we 
may  trust  the  infallibility  of  its  source,  since  it  not  only  con- 
firmed the  gift  of  his  predecessor,  but  excommunicated  all 
who  resisted  Henry's  authority  or  that  of  his  heirs,  and  aban- 
doned them  to  the  power  of  the  devil.  Every  Irish  patriot 
was  converted  into  a  child  of  Satan  ;  every  aspiration  of  free- 
dom was  an  impious  defiance  of  the  Roman  Church. (') 

And  now  began  that  perpetual  conflict  of  races,  the  saddest 
in  the  annals  of  Europe,  which  was  to  oppress  with  endless 
misfortunes  a  gifted  and  innocent  people,  and  plant  in  their 
hearts  the  bitter  seeds  of  ceaseless  malignity  and  revenge. 
From  the  wild  shores  of  Ulster,  where  the  northern  seas  break 
fiercely  along  the  rocks  and  hills  of  Derry;  from  the  tall 
mountains  and  endless  bogs  of  Connaught,  whose  savage  land- 
scape has  ever  been  the  last  retreat  of  Celtic  freemen ;  from 
the  lovely  vales  and  stately  glens  of  Wicklow,  where  the  bright 
waters  of  Avoca  melt  into  harmony,  and  leaping  cataracts 
seam  the  granite  precipices,  and  towering  rocks  shoot  upward 
to  the  skies ;  from  soft  Killarney,  sleeping  in  its  beauty ;  or 


(')  Girald.,  Hib.  Ex.,  ii.,  6 ;  Mat.  Paris,  i.,  95. 

C)  Mat.  Paris,  i.,  95 :  "  Oinnes  iusulas,  quibus  sol  jtistitise  Christus  illux- 
it,  ad  jns  Sancti  Petri  et  sacrosanctse  Romanai  ecclesiaj  pertinere." 

C)  Mat.  Paris:  "  Gloriosum  uomeu  valeas  iu  SEeculis  obtiuere." 

C)  Lanigan,  iv.,  pp.  211,223,  notices  various  emiueut  aud  pure-miuded 
Irisli  prelates  of  this  age  not  surpassed  iu  any  laud. 


440  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

grassy  Meath,  the  greenest  and  the  richest  of  all  northern 
pastures — a  monrnfnl  wail  has  never  ceased  to  ascend  to  heav- 
en and  bliglit  the  charms  of  the  Island  of  the  Saints.  Herded 
in  filthy  hovels,  starving  in  wealthy  cities,  crouched  among  the 
wild  hills  where  their  ancestors  once  reigned — a  lost,  accursed 
race,  the  Celts  breathe  endless  maledictions  on  their  conquer- 
ors, and,  amidst  the  boundless  opulence  of  nature,  live  sullen- 
ly in  a  hopeless  decay. 

But  when  the  papal  decrees  were  proclaimed  they  still  re- 
tained a  manly  sentiment  of  independence.  Princes  and  peo- 
ple united  in  defying  the  authority  of  the  Italian  priests.  The 
Irish  bishops  still  refused  to  cut  off  their  flowing  locks  or  put 
away  their  faithful  wives ;  the  native  chiefs  derided  the  for- 
eign pope  who  claimed  their  ancestral  lands.  The  Celtic 
kings  retreated  more  and  more  from  the  intercourse  with  pol- 
ished nations.  On  some  wild  mountain-side  or  lonely  glen, 
sheltered  by  trackless  forests,  sylvan  lakes,  and  lofty  hills,  the 
Irish  monarchs  raised  their  palaces  of  polished  wood  roofed 
with  wattles,  and,  surrounded  by  a  courtly  train  of  bearded 
nobles,  famous  bards,  harpers  of  matchless  skill,  and  brave  re- 
tainers, administered  the  Brehon  laws  to  a  faithful  race,  and 
worshiped  with  the  liturgy  of  Columba.  Shut  out  from  the 
Eomish  Church,  which  had  excommunicated  them,  and  the 
Normans  by  whom  they  were  oppressed,  the  Celts  sunk  into 
the  vices  of  isolation.  They  shared  in' none  of  the  progressive 
movements  of  the  age.  Their  literature  was  a  poetic  lament 
over  a  half-imaginary  past ;  their  churches  were  simple  build- 
ings of  wood,  like  those  of  Patrick  or  Columba ;(')  their  relics 
some  rude  but  ponderous  bell,  whose  dull  note  may  have  struck 
uj)on  the  ears  of  generations  of  saints,  which  was  adorned  with 
gems  and  inclosed  in  a  gilded  cover ;  or  some  pastoral  staff 
of  an  early  bishop,  glittering  with  modern  decorations.  AYar 
was  their  chief  employment.^ )     When  no  band  of  Norman 

(')  Bede,  Hist.  Ecc,  describes  these  early  churches  "iion  de  lapide,  sed 
de  robore  secto  totam  composuit  atque  harundine  texit." 

C)  Spenser,  State  of  Ireland,  p.  7,.says:  "Yes,  truly  ;  for  there  be  many 
■wide  countries  in  Ireland  in  which  the  laws  of  England  were  never  estab- 
lished," etc.     This  was  under  Elizabeth.     Tbe  Brehon  laws  prevailed. 


TEE  DEATH  OF  EODEEIC.  441 

knights  threatened  their  lonely  glens,  they  preyed  npon  one 
another;  the  Irish  princes  covered  their  native  wilderness 
with  slaughter,  and  the  Irish  kerns  paid  the  penalty  of  the 
follies  of  their  chiefs. 

Yet  in  the  opening  of  the  conquest  the  Celts  seemed  des- 
tined to  a  sudden  subjection.  The  Norman  chivalry  swept 
over  the  island,  and  even  Koderic  O'Connor  was  driven  to  a 
temporary  submission.  At  the  head  of  a  few  men  at  arms 
and  a  band  of  archers,  Kaymond  dashed  over  countless  hosts 
of  natives,  and  pierced  the  West  of  Ireland ;  and  John  de 
Courcy,  the  Cojur  de  Lion  of  the  war,  broke  into  the  limits 
of  Ulster,  and,  like  an  enchanted  paladin,  clove  his  way,  al- 
most by  his  single  arm,  to  the  northern  sea.  With  one  stroke 
of  his  bright  falchion  he  lopped  off  heads ;  with  another, 
limbs.(')  His  huge  and  stalwart  form,  mounted  on  a  milk- 
white  steed  of  unusual  size  and  strength,  his  fair  complexion, 
his  fiery  valor,  and  ceaseless  activity ;  his  piety,  and  the  Chris- 
tian zeal  with  which  he  knelt  regularly  at  the  holy  altar,  and 
from  the  spoils  of  war  founded  churches  and  endowed  monas- 
teries ;  his  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  Godred,  the  Nor- 
wegian King  of  Man  ;  his  princely  state — are  celebrated  by 
the  English  chroniclers.  But  we  are  also  told  that  the  Irish 
began  now  to  resist  with  vigor,  and  that  even  John  de  Courcy 
and  Miles  de  Cogan  fled  more  than  once  from  the  valor  of 
Eoderic  and  the  sharp  pursuit  of  the  men  of  Ulster  or  Con- 
nauglit.(^) 

The  ruins  of  a  graceful  abbey,  now  shorn  of  roof  and  win- 
dow, and  opening  their  moss-grown  arches  to  the  forest-glade, 
in  the  lonely  wilds  of  Mayo,  are  pointed  out — for  we  must 
now  dismiss  to  his  repose  one  of  the  chief  actors  in  our  dra- 
ma— as  the  refuge  for  many  years  of  the  weary  spirit  of  the 
last  of  the  Irish  kings,  and  the  place  of  his  final  abode.  Rod- 
eric  O'Connor  sleeps  beneath  the  shattered  walls  of  the  mon- 
astery of  Cong.(')     Hopeless,  perhaps  disheartened,  shocked 

(')  Girald.,  Hib.  Ex.,  ii.,  16.  (■')  Girald.  Cam.,  Hib.  Ex.,  ii.,  16, 17. 

C)  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall  describe  the  graceful  ruins  and  the  lonely 
tomb.     Yet  some  doubt  rests  upon  the  tradition  of  Eoderic's  grave. 


4^:2  TEE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

by  the  ruin  of  his  country,  the  cruel  ambition  of  his  own  chil- 
dren, the  cloud  of  woe  that  had  fallen  upon  his  guilty  house, 
the  patriotic  king  had  signalized  the  last  years  of  his  reign 
by  various  bold  and  successful  but  seemingly  useless  exploits 
against  the  ]S"ormans,  and  then,  laying  down  the  crown  which 
he  had  assumed  in  a  happier  hour,  remained  for  thirteen  3'ears 
a  monk  or  a  recluse.  We  may  trust  that  in  the  peace  of  the 
forest  glade  Eoderic  forgot  the  cares  of  earth,  and  entered 
into  communion  with  the  spirits  of  Patrick  and  Columba.  A 
sacred  bell,  covered  with  rude  but  rich  decorations,  is  still 
preserved  in  the  neighborhood,  that  may  have  often  smnmon- 
ed  him  to  his  devotions  or  tolled  his  requiem.  The  winds 
that  sigh  amidst  the  broken  arches  of  Cong  seem  eloquent  of 
his  hapless  fate ;  and  if  the  harp  of  Tara  be  hushed  and  shat- 
tered, and  the  bards  of  Erin  heard  no  more,  history  at  least 
must  pause  to  drop  a  compassionate  tear  over  the  moss-grown 
tomb  of  the  patriotic  king. 

To  compose  the  troubles  of  the  English  Pale,  Henry  sent 
his  son  John,  a  boy  of  twelve,  to  rule  over  Ireland.  It  would 
scarcely  have  been  possible  to  have  selected  a  worse  exam- 
ple of  the  results  of  a  chivalric  education.  John's  vices  and 
follies  were  already  mature.  He  was  prepared  to  stab  an 
Arthur  and  to  break  his  father's  heart.(')  But  he  was  also 
surrounded  by  a  corrupt  train  of  youthful  courtiers,  painted, 
effeminate,  cruel,  vain,  who  shocked  the  grave  and  melancholy 
Irish  by  a  strange  levity  of  vice.  The  miserable  prince  and 
his  fitting  associates  plundered  the  land  they  were  sent  to 
rule.  But  a  final  insult  aroused  Ireland  to  revolt.  "When  the 
grave  chiefs  and  wealthy  citizens,  clothed  in  their  national 
dress,  their  hair  plaited  behind  in  heavy  braids,  their  beards 
flowing  upon  their  breasts,  came  forward  to  offer  allegiance 
to  John,  and  to  give  him,  as  had  been  their  custom  with  their 
native  princes,  the  kiss  of  peace,  the  idle  courtiers  mocked  the 
solemn  deputation,  and  at  length  seized  them  contemptuously 
by  their  beards.  The  fierce  Celtic  fire  was  aroused.  The 
chiefs  fled  to  Connaught  or  Ulster,  the  people  to  the  forests ; 

C)  Gerald  faintly  indicates  the  vices  of  his  pupil.     Hib.  Ex.,  ii. 


ROMAN  PRIESTS  KILL  IRE  IRISH.  443 

and  around  the  English  Pale  sprung  up  a  circle  of  deadly 
foes,  and  the  contest  became  one  of  extermination.  John  re- 
turned to  England  disgraced  and  penniless,  and  the  Xorman 
knights  harried  the  land  he  might  have  soothed  into  repose.Q 

Centuries  of  fatal  discord  followed,  during  which  the  ISTor- 
mans  strove  in  vain  to  extirpate  the  accursed  race  who  refused 
to  obey  the  decrees  of  the  Popes  or  submit  to  a  foreign  lord. 
Papal  legates  launched  new  excommunications  against  the 
Irish,  and  Romish  priests  urged  on  that  work  of  extermina- 
tion vfhich  alone  could  secure  the  suj^remacy  of  the  Eomish 
See.  The  papal  monks  declared  that  it  was  no  crime,  no  sin, 
to  kill  a  Celt.  The  Norman  priests  offered  free  absolution  to 
the  murderer  whose  hands  were  yet  stained  with  the  blood  of 
an  Irishman.  The  Holy  Church  opened  its  most  sacred  rite 
— which  could  only  be  approached  with  a  good  conscience  and 
a  pure  heart  —  to  him  who  had  slain  one  of  the  abject  race. 
The  Norman  knights  thought  no  more  of  killing  an  Irishman 
than  a  dog  :  to  rob  his  home,  to  ravish  away  his  land,  to  drive 
him,  wdth  his  family,  starving  and  famished,  to  the  lonely 
wilds,  was  the  favorite  sport  of  the  chivalric  invaders.  The 
mountain  lands  of  Connauo-ht  and  of  Ulster  were  thronged 
with  the  population  of  the  plains,  who  had  fled  for  life  from 
the  papal  robbers ;  and  every  cave  and  cranny  of  the  glens, 
every  inaccessible  fastness  and  hidden  glade,  was  thickly  ten- 
anted by  men,  women,  and  children,  crouching  like  wild  beasts 
from  their  destroyers.(')  Nor  would  even  this  suffice.  The 
priests  and  knights  pursued  them  to  their  caves  and  forests ; 
the  miserable  tenants  were  killed  in  their  wild  retreats  like 
wolves  or  stags ;  and,  cursed  by  popes  and  persecuted  by 
kings,  the  Church  of  St.  Patrick  seemed  ready  to  perish  for- 
ever— a  victim  to  the  Moloch  of  Eome. 

One  cry  of  mournful  indignation  has  reached  us  from  the 
fourteenth  century — a  subdued  but  touching  appeal  against 


(*)  Giralcl.,  Hib.  Ex. ;  Eoger  de  Hoveden. 

O  Letter  of  Donald  to  John.  J.  de  Fordun,  Scotichron.,  p.  908,  ed. 
Hearne  :  "  Ejectis  nobis  violenter  de  spaciosis  habitatiouibus  uostris,"  etc., 
p.  911. 


444:  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

the  cruel  policy  of  the  Italian  priests.  To  John,  Pope  of 
Kome,  Donald,  King  of  Ulster,  ventured  to  assert  that  the 
woes  of  Ireland  were  the  result  of  the  gift  of  Adi-ian  to  Ilen- 
ry,(')  to  hint  that  the  Eoman  See  was  the  cause  of  the  miseries 
of  his  race,  and  to  proclaim  that  war  until  death  against  their 
oppressors  which  should  cease  only  with  their  destruction. 
Superstition  checked  the  warmth  of  the  Irish  ruler ;  nor  did 
he  venture  to  utter  all  the  thoughts  that  must  have  filled  his 
mind  when  he  reviewed  the  fate  of  Erin  from  the  days  of 
Adrian  and  Henry  to  his  own.  He  was  overawed  by  the  re- 
nown of  that  spiritual  tyrant  to  whom  he  was  addressing  him- 
self;  he  hoped  something,  perhaps,  from  the  clemency  of  a 
ruthless  pope.  Yet  he  lays  bare,  with  unflinching  accuracy, 
the  crimes  of  the  Eomish  clergy.  It  was  the  monks,  he  de- 
clares, that  taught  that  it  was  no  more  sin  to  kill  an  Irishman 
than  a  dog.C")  It  was  the  Church  that  roused  the  ceaseless 
fires  of  hate.  The  Cistercians  of  Granard  or  Innis  every  day 
wounded  and  killed  the  Irish,  yet  said  their  masses  as  usual. 
Brother  Simon,  the  Franciscan — ^  unworthy  disciple  of  his 
sweet  and  gentle  founder — preached  openly  that  there  was  no 
harm  in  killing  or  robbing  an  Irishman.  A  Clare  murdered 
Brian  the  Red  at  his  own  table  after  they  had  shared  the  con- 
secrated wafer  tos-ether.  Tlie  assassin  of  an  Irishman  was 
never  punished ;  and  Donald,  with  mournful  truth,  declared 
that  nothing  but  the  total  ruin  of  his  race  would  satisfy  the 
malice  of  their  conquerors. 

The  Irish  prince  closes  his  appeal  with  a  malediction  and 
vow.(')  "  We  nourish  in  our  hearts,"  he  cries,  "  an  inveterate 
hatred  against  our  oppressors,  produced  by  the  memories  of 
long  years  of  injustice,  by  the  murders  of  our  fathers  and  our 
kindred.     So  long  as  we  have  life  we  will  light  against  them. 


(')  '•' Miserabile  iu  qiio  Eomanus  pontifes  statu  nos  posuit." — Fordun, 
Scotichron.,  p.  912. 

(-)  "Non  magis  est  peccatura  iuterficere  hominem  Hibernicum  qii^m 
unum  canem." — Fordun,  p.  918. 

('")  "Quanidiii  vita  aderit,  ipsos  impugnabimus — ruortalem  guerram," 
etc. — Fordun,  p.  923. 


TEE  IRISH  VICTORIOUS.  445 

without  pity  or  remorse ;  our  children  shall  continue  the  end- 
less feud.  Kever  will  we  lay  aside  the  sword  until  the  Su- 
preme Judge  shall  have  taken  vengeance  upon  their  crimes, 
until  we  have  recovered  that  independence  which  is  our  nat- 
ural right,  and  have  avenged  those  insults  which  to  brave  men 
are  worse  than  death." 

Thus  the  barbarous  chief  expressed  the  passions  of  the 
savage ;  but  had  he  aimed  his  maledictions  against  the  Roman 
See  as  well  as  against  its  Norman  allies,  had  he  vowed  for  his 
countrymen  a  deathless  hostility  against  those  Italian  priests 
and  that  usurping  Church  which  had  instigated  all  the  woes 
of  Ireland,  had  he  been  able  to  preserve  the  pure  faith  of  St. 
Patrick  from  contamination  and  decay,  he  would  have  pre- 
pared a  weapon  sharper  than  a  thousand  swords  for  the  pres- 
ervation of  the  freedom  of  his  native  land. 

Of  the  later  history  of  the  conquest  of  Ireland  the  i-eader 
may  desire  a  brief  detail.  The  ceaseless  warfare,  sometimes 
slumbering,  yet  ever  renewed,  glowed  around  the  circuit  of 
the  English  Pale ;  and  when  the  wars  of  the  Roses  cut  down 
the  flower  of  the  Norman  nobility,  the  Irish  chiefs,  in  the  fa- 
vorable moment,  had  nearly  driven  the  invaders  from  their 
land.  Ulster,  Connaught,  and  even  Munster  were  free.  The 
English  were  burned  within  their  frontier  castles,  or  nearly 
driven  inside  the  walls  of  Dublin.  The  sufferings  of  centu- 
ries were  avenged  by  horrible  atrocities,  and  the  colony  of 
English  might  well  tremble  before  the  rage  of  united  Ireland. 
In  the  fair  country  below  the  Shannon,  the  O'Briens  swept 
away  the  Clares  of  Thomond,  and  renewed  the  Brehon  laAvs 
and  the  ancient  faith  in  their  ancestral  lands.  The  harpers 
gathered  in  their  hospitable  courts,  and  j)oets  chanted  by  the 
still  waters  of  Killarney,  All  over  Ulster  and  Connaught  it 
is  probable  that  the  married  priest,  unshorn  and  unpolluted 
by  Roman  ordination,  preached  the  pure  doctrines  of  Columba, 
and  tempered  the  vengeance  of  his  countrymen.  Compara- 
tive peace  settled  upon  Ireland,  and  its  national  laws  and  its 
ancient  faith  were  maintained  unchanged  except  within  the 
narrow  limits  of  the  English  Pale. 

When  the  Irish  were  converted  to  the  faith  of  Rome  can 


446  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

scarcely  be  discovered.(')  Until  the  opening  of  the  sixteenth 
century  they  can  hardly  have  felt  any  bond  of  sympathy  to 
the  chair  of  St.  Peter,  which  had  covered  them  with  its  male- 
dictions and  condemned  them  to  slavery.  The  savage  chiefs 
who  ruled  the  wild  coasts  of  Ulster  and  the  wide  bogs  of  Con- 
naught,  with  their  uncultivated  and  warlike  people,  knew  at 
least  that  the  Bishops  of  Kome  had  ever  been  their  bitterest 
enemies,  and  that  the  English  within  the  Pale  relied  upon  the 
papal  bull  as  the  chief  ground  of  their  usui-pation.  It  was 
remembered,  no  doubt,  that  the  Eomish  priests  had  taught 
that  an  Irishman  might  be  killed  like  a  dog,  and  that  Fran- 
ciscan friars  had  urged  the  extirpation  of  the  Irish  race.  It  is 
possible,  it  is  almost  certain,  that  the  native  chiefs,  until  the 
opening  of  modern  history,  owed  no  allegiance  to  Eome,  and 
that  the  Irish  Church,  endeared  to  the  native  Celts  by  ages  of 
persecution,  still  ministered  by  its  primitive  bishops,  and,  with 
Colman  and  Columba,  traced  its  authority  to  Ephesus  and  St. 
John.  But  all  this  was  now  to  change.  A  reformation  had 
passed  over  Europe,  and  the  chief  leaders  of  the  religious 
movement  were  Henry  and  Elizabeth,  the  persecutors  of  the 
Irish  name.  The  English  within  the  Pale  had  become  Prot- 
estants, but  they  showed  no  disposition  to  abandon  the  island 
which  they  had  received  from  St.  Peter's  patrimony ;  and  in 
the  vigorous  reign  of  Elizabeth,  the  English  armies,  renewed 
by  the  fresh  impulses  of  progress,  began  to  press  once  more 
upon  the  limits  of  Celtic  independence.  The  conquest,  be- 
gun nearly  four  centuries  before,  was  now  slowly  advancing. 
Laws  of  unusual  severity  were  enacted;  tanistry  and  other 
Irish  usages  were  abolished.  It  was  plainly  the  design  of  the 
English  queen  to  reduce  the  island  to  a  passive  subjection  to 
her  power. 

The  cause  of  this  fresh  assault  upon  the  liberties  of  Ireland 

(')  Usher,  tvIio  was  in  Ireland  as  bishop  (1640),  asserts  with  confidence 
that  the  Irish  had  never  been  Romanists.  See  Hanmer,  p.  87.  Murray, 
Ireland  (1845),  a  defense  of  Irish  freedom,  may  bo  consulted,  p.  43-60.  So, 
too,  De  Vinn6's  useful  compend  (1870),  The  Irish  Primitive  Church.  The 
Romish  writers  content  themselves  with  denying  well-kuown  facts.  See 
Moore,  Hist.  Ireland  ;  Lanigan,  etc. 


TEE  JESUITS  IN  IRELAND.  447 

were  the  restless  intrigues  of  the  Jesiiits.(')  In  that  gallant 
struggle  which  Elizabeth  was  destined  to  wage  for  the  safety 
of  her  crown  and  her  life  against  the  Pope,  the  Spaniards,  the 
adherents  of  Mary  of  Scotland,  and  all  Romish  Europe,  the 
most  active  and  most  dangerous  of  her  foes  were  ever  the  dis- 
ciples of  Loyola.  To  ruin  and  break  down  every  Protestant 
government,  to  cover  with  discord  and  slaughter  every  Prot- 
estant land,  and  from  the  wreck  of  nations  to  build  up  a  spirit- 
ual empire  as  tyrannical  and  as  severe  as  was  that  of  Tiberius 
or  Nero,  was  then,  as  now,  the  secret  or  open  aim  of  every 
Jesuit.  To  wound  or  to  destroy  Elizabeth  the  society  began 
its  disastrous  labors  in  Ireland.  The  Jesuits,  in  various  dis- 
guises, penetrated  to  the  courts  of  the  native  chiefs.  They 
roused  the  fires  of  national  antipathy ;  they  scoffed  at  the  Sax- 
ons as  heretics ;  they  allured  the  Irish  to  abandon  forever  the 
usages  of  St.  Patrick  and  to  ally  themselves  with  the  Italian 
Church  ;(^)  they  promised  the  natives  the  protection  of  St. 
Peter,  the  shield  of  Mary,  the  blessing  of  the  Pope,  and  the 
military  aid  of  all  Catholic  Europe,  if  they  would  rise  once 
more  in  a  grand  crusade  against  the  English  of  the  Pale  and 
drive  the  Saxons  from  their  soil. 

The  alluring  vision  painted  by  the  skillful  touch  of  the  un- 
sparing Jesuits  drew  on  the  Celtic  chieftains  to  their  ruin. 
Not  satisfied  with  the  possession  of  three-fourths  of  the  isl- 
and, with  the  enjoyment  of  their  own  laws  and  their  own 
faith,  with  the  prospect  of  a  gradual  imj)rovement  and  a  peace- 
ful union  with  their  Englisli  masters  of  the  Pale,  the  impul- 
sive people  accepted  the  offers  of  Rome,  threw  themselves  at 
the  Pontiff's  feet,  and  became,  for  the  first  time,  the  willing 
instruments  of  the  Jesuits  and  the  Popes.  They  may  be  ex- 
cused, if  not  forgiven.  Their  schools  had  long  been  swept 
away ;  their  people  had  sunk  into  ignorance  ;  history,  poetry, 

(')  Sacchinus,  iv.,  p.  148.  Wolfe,  a  Jesuit  and  a  papal  miucio,  made  bis 
way  to  Cork  iu  1561. 

{^)  So  Wolfe  probably  induced  some  Irisb  married  priests — for  wo  can 
not  believe  bis  scandalous  account — to  put  away  tlieir  wives.  "  Clericos 
ca?nobitasque  passim  omnes  cum  mulierculis  suis,"  It  is  plain  tbat  in 
1561  tbe  priests  were  married. 


448  TEE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

and  music  had  given  place  to  the  ceaseless  turmoil  of  a  border 
war.  Home  stretched  forth  its  cunning  hand  to  extii-pate  the 
Irish  Church,  and,  after  four  centuries  of  violence,  succeeded 
at  last  by  a  fatal  fraud. 

From  Ulster  and  Munster,  from  the  banks  of  the  Shannon 
and  the  glens  of  Wicklow,  the  wild  Irish,  inspired  by  the  sav- 
age teachings  of  their  Italian  masters,  fell  bravely  upon  the 
English  Pale.  But  the  whole  scheme  of  the  crusade  proved 
soon  the  desperate  vision  of  deluded  priests.  The  Pope  could 
give  little  aid  to  his  new  converts  (1560-1600) ;  the  Spanish 
were  too  far  off  to  be  of  service  ;  and  Elizabeth,  resolute  and 
bold,  sent,  one  by  one,  the  bravest  or  the  most  renowned  of 
her  courtiers  to  secure  her  dominion  over  the  fertile  isle. 
Here  Paleigh  cut  down  the  Irish  kerns,  and  Grey  massacred 
the  hopeless  rebels ;  here  the  Norrises  and  the  Blounts  were 
heard  of  in  many  a  fray ;  here  Essex,  brave  but  inexperienced, 
wasted  his  fine  army,  and  returned  to  perish  on  the  block ;  and 
here,  at  length,  the  prudent  Mountjoy  broke  the  strength  of 
the  Irish  league.  Tyrone,  the  great  O'Neil,  once  master  of 
half  Ireland,  the  terror  of  Elizabeth  and  of  the  English  Pale, 
went  into  exile  ;  the  savage  chiefs  of  the  West  sunk  into  sub- 
mission ;  and  when  Elizabeth  died,  Ireland  was  almost  wholly 
conquered.  Happy  had  the  fertile  isle  submitted  peacefully 
to  its  inevitable  doom ! 

The  later  sorrows  of  this  unlucky  land  may  still  be  traced 
to  the  mischievous  plottings  of  the  society  of  Loyola.(')  The 
Jesuits  would  never  suffer  Ireland  to  repose.  A  Romish  fac- 
tion grew  up  among  its  ignorant  people  pledged  to  the  hope- 
less task  of  winnino;  back  the  island  to  the  dominion  of  the 
Pope.  A  colony  of  Scottish  Protestants  had  settled  on  the 
wasted  soil  of  Ulster,  and  by  industry  and  intelligence  were 
fast  restoring  the  early  prosperity  of  tlie  favored  scene  of  Pat- 
rick's labors  and  Columba's  prayers.  The  Jesuits  and  the  pa- 
pal chiefs  resolved  upon  their  destruction  (1640-161:4).  On  a 
sad  and  memorable  day,  the  source  of  many  a  bitter  woe  to 

(')  Allen,  Archer,  and  many  other  Jesuits  are  noted  in  the  various  ris- 
ings.    See  Moore,  Hist.  Ireland,  ii.,  i)p.  437,  497. 


MASSAC  BE  OF  ULSTER.  44:9 

Ireland,  the  Romish  forces  sprung  upon  the  prosperous  colo- 
ny, and  wasted  it  with  fierce  malignity.  Forty  thousand  Prot- 
estants were  massacred  without  remorse ;  the  fields  of  Ulster 
were  filled  with  the  dead ;  the  noble  perished  in  his  castle, 
the  priest  was  hanged  in  his  garden,  and  a  new  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's swept  over  Ireland.(')  But  a  pei^petual  terror  now  set- 
tled upon  all  Protestant  minds ;  the  Irish  massacre  shocked 
all  Europe ;  the  Protestant  natives  brooded  over  their  venge- 
ance ;  the  spirits  of  the  dead  seemed  to  their  impassioned  fan- 
cies to  float  over  the  terrified  isle;  spectral  illusions  filled  the 
air.  A  group  of  women,  whose  husbands  had  been  murdered 
and  their  children  drowned  at  Armagh,  saw,  about  twilight, 
the  vision  of  a  woman  rising  from  the  waters ;  her  form  wa& 
erect,  her  hair  hung  long  and  disheveled,  her  skin  was  white 
as  snow,  and  she  cried  incessantly  to  the  sad  spectators,  "  Re- 
venge !  revenge !"  A  ghost  was  seen  constantly  from  Decem- 
ber to  spring-time,  stretching  out  its  spectral  hands  over  the 
scene  of  death.f ) 

Had  Ireland  retained  the  liberal  faith  of  Patrick  and  Co- 
lumba  it  might  readily  have  shared  in  the  new  impulses  of  the 
age,  and  the  colleges  of  Cashel  and  Armagh  and  the  monas- 
teries of  lona  might  once  again  have  imparted  a  consecrated 
civilization  to  Northern  Europe ;  once  more  the  hills  of  An- 
trim might  have  echoed  to  the  tread  of  seven  thousand  stu- 
dents, and  the  saints  and  scholars  of  Erin  have  restored  the 
intellectual  glory  of  the  sacred  isle.  But  the  fated  land  was 
now  bound  by  terrible  ties  to  the  See  of  Rome.  The  Celtic 
race  had  doomed  itself  to  ceaseless  ignorance ;  the  Popes  and 
the  Jesuits  ruled  the  hopeless  people  with  remorseless  skill; 
and  Ireland  had  allied  itself  to  that  cruel  and  immoral  conserv- 
atism which  was  exemplified  in  the  massacres  of  Ulster  or  the 
ravages  of  Philip  of  Spain.  The  name  of  an  Irish  Catholic 
seemed  now  the  symbol  of  barbarous  malignity.     The  Celts, 

(')  The  English  had  often  iutermingled  with  the  Celts  and  adopted  their 
manners.     The  contest  has  from  this  jteriod  been  one  of  religion. 

C)  These  spectral  illusions,  the  creations  of  minds  torn  by  grief  or  rack- 
ed by  apprehension,  remind  one  of  the  oracles  of  Thucydides  or  the  appa- 
ritions of  Livy. 

29 


450  THE  coy  QUE  ST  OF  IRELAND. 

who  had  once  educated  Europe,  became,  under  Koraish  influ- 
ences, accursed  in  the  eyes  of  civilization. 

Cromwell,  the  avenger  of  the  massacre  of  Derry,  in  1649 
entered  Ireland  to  crush  the  Komish  league ;  and  if  retaliation 
or  retribution  ever  soothed  a  revengeful  spirit,  the  wraiths 
that  hovered  over  the  rivers  of  Ulster  must  now  have  sunk  to 
rest.  The  Komish  forces  melted  away  before  the  vigorous 
soldier ;  that  keen  intellect,  which  had  never  faltered  on  the 
battle-field,  cut  to  pieces,  by  its  bold  strategy,  the  Irish  host ; 
no  pity  moved  him  as  he  blotted  cities  from  the  earth,  or 
strewed  the  land  with  dead.  His  cruelty  was  inexcusable; 
his  followers  imitated  his  severity,  and  Ireland  was  crushed 
into  submission.  From  Cromweirs  time  the  English  ruled 
over  the  subject  island,  a  severe  and  exacting  caste.  The 
bravest  and  most  adventurous  of  the  Celts  abandoned  their 
native  land.  They  fought  in  the  armies  of  the  Catholic  pow- 
ers in  every  crusade  against  the  reformers.  Their  valor  be- 
came conspicuous  on  the  battle-fields  of  France  and  Germany, 
and  the  papacy  had  no  more  remorseless  defenders  than  that 
misguided  race  who  had  been  sold  into  slavery  by  Adrian, 
and  reduced  to  a  more  fatal  bondage  by  the  unscrupulous  arts 
of  the  Jesuits. 

The  devotion  of  the  Irish  to  the  Italian  prelate  grew  into 
an  insane  passion.  They  gave  their  lives  freely  for  the  priest 
who  had  destroyed  them.  The  Italians  smiled  at  their  sin- 
cerity, and  employed  them  in  their  bloodiest  deeds.  A  band 
of  Irishmen,  a  Butler  and  a  Devereux,  were  selected  to  assas- 
sinate Wallenstein  ;  an  Irishman  defended  the  murder ;(')  an 
Irish  legion  committed  fearful  crimes  in  the  Vaudois  valleys  ; 
the  brutal  cruelty  of  the  O'Xeils  and  the  O'Connors  shocked 
the  moral  sense  of  an  unscrupulous  age.  At  length  James  II. 
set  up  a  Catholic  kingdom  in  Ireland,  and  the  barbarities  of 
Tyrone  were  renewed  at  the  siege  of  Derry  and  the  pillage  of 
Ulster.     But  the  abject  race  which  lay  sunk  in  superstitious 


(')  "  Carve,  Itinerarium,  cap.  xi.,  reliqui  Hiberni."  Carve,  an  Irish  exile, 
calls  Bntler,  the  assassin,  au  illustrious  iiuuderer,  and  exults  over  the  woes 
of  the  enemies  of  Rome. 


THE  IRISH  EMIGRANTS.  451 

decay  was  no  match  for  the  vigorous  Protestants  who  fought 
under  William  of  Orange.  The  Irish  fell  once  more  into  gross 
degradation.  Even  Swift,  the  idol  of  Dublin,  scoffed  at  his 
wretched  countrymen ;  and  for  a  century  the  Celts  starved 
in  their  miserable  hovels,  and  groveled  before  their  oppressors. 
The  French  Revolution  and  the  vain  ambition  of  Naj)oleon 
roused  them  to  a  new  insurrection,  but  the  fall  of  the  tyrant 
left  them  more  wretched  than  before. 

Then  began  the  remarkable  emigration  of  the  Celts.  A 
free  and  Protestant  land  opened  wide  its  hospitable  shores  to 
the  hapless  race,  and  with  unbounded  generosity  offered  them 
liberty,  equality,  and  a  peaceful  home.  They  swarmed  over 
the  ocean.  A  ceaseless  tide  of  Celtic  bondmen  has  poured 
into  the  cities  of  the  New  World.  But  unhappily  the  virtues 
of  Patrick  and  the  modesty  of  Columba  have  too  often  been 
forgotten  by  their  countrymen.  They  have  brought  with 
them  an  insane  devotion  to  the  Romish  See — a  strange  hostili- 
ty to  the  free  institutions  of  their  adopted  land.  They  have 
labored  to  destroy  that  wide  system  of  public  instruction  by 
which  alone  they  can  hope  to  rise  from  their  mental  decay. 
They  have  proclaimed  their  hostility  to  the  Bible,  whose  pure 
lessons  had  once  made  Ireland  the  island  of  the  saints.  They 
have  chosen  to  linger  in  vicious  ignorance,  and  to  fill  the 
prisons  and  the  alms-houses,  instead  of  rising,  by  education  and 
industry,  to  the  dignity  of  freemen.  They  have  become  the 
servile  tools  of  corrupt  politicians  or  foreign  priests;  and 
when  danger  hovered  over  the  nation  the  votes  of  Irishmen 
were  uniformly  aimed  against  the  Government,  and  proved 
often  more  fatal  to  the  hopes  of  freedom  than  the  plots  of 
Davis  or  the  sword  of  Lee.(') 

Yet  we  may  trust  that  a  more  honorable  career  awaits  the 
Celts  in  the  future.  Gratitude  must  awaken  when  knowledge 
has  taught  them  to  reflect ;  when  they  compare  the  generous 
hospitality  of  the  New  World  with  the  bitter  persecutions  of 


(')  Of  course  this  rebuke  will  touch  ouly  the  guilty  ;  some  of  the  Irish 
immigrants  have  been  iiatriots,  many  industrious  and  useful ;  but  yet  our 
Btatement  is  true. 


452  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

the  Old ;  when  they  reflect  that  here  alone  they  are  free  from 
the  malice  of  tyrants  and  the  exactions  of  the  priest ;  when 
education  shall  have  aroused  them  from  their  blindness,  and 
they  have  discovered,  with  remorse  and  shame,  that  every 
Irishman  who,  at  the  command  of  popes  or  prelates,  labors  to 
destroy  the  free  institutions  of  his  adopted  home,  is  a  traitor 
worse  tlian  Dermot  Macmorrough  when  he  guided  the  papal 
lesrions  to  the  ruin  of  his  native  land. 

On  a  fair  hill,  amidst  the  gentlest  scenery  of  Ulster,  stands 
the  venerable  Cathedral  of  Armagh,  said  to  have  been  found- 
ed by  St.  Patrick,  and  around  it,  on  the  sloping  declivities, 
were  once  gathered  the  modest  buildings  where  countless 
students,  in  the  period  of  Ireland's  intellectual  glory,  were 
freely  educated  and  maintained.(')  The  hills  and  vales  of  the 
beautiful  landscape  are  consecrated  in  the  history  of  education. 
Here  Patrick  founded  his  first  free  school.  Here  grew  up 
the  most  renowned  of  European  colleges.  Along  yonder  vales 
the  youth  of  Scotland,  Germany,  Gaul,  and  Britain  came  to 
study  the  poetry,  the  music,  the  history  of  Ireland,  and  to  list- 
en to  illustrious  lecturers  whose  names  were  famous  in  Italy 
and  Spain.  Men  of  profound  learning  and  undoubted  piety 
trod  from  age  to  age  yonder  peaceful  plain.  The  streets  of 
Armagh,  it  is  said,  were  crowded  with  students.  A  scholastic 
tumult  hung  over  the  quiet  scene  where  now  the  shuttle  and 
the  spinning-wheel  alone  disturb  the  peace  of  the  rural  vil- 
lage ;f)  a  boundless  passion  for  knowledge  filled  its  early 
population ;  the  clamor  of  a  hundred  lecture-rooms  resounded 
not  far  from  the  tall  cliffs  of  Derry,  or  where  the  huge  pillars 
of  the  Giant's  Causeway  1)reak  the  waves  of  the  northern  sea. 
Patrick,  the  apostle  of  the  free  school  and  the  Scriptural 
Church,  still  lives  in  the  memories  of  Armagh.     Disciple  of 

(')  The  Four  Masters  celebrate  a  long  succession  of  brilliant  lecturers 
and  accomplished  rectors  of  the  native  colleges.  Even  in  1170  (ii.,  1175) 
the  death  of  the  great  lector  Cormac  is  related,  almost  the  last  of  the  sages 
of  his  country. 

C)  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall,  Beauties  of  Ireland,  describe  with  enthusiasm 
the  landscape  of  Armagh,  11.,  p.  458-460,  the  charms  of  the  Banu,  the  grand- 
eur of  Lough  Neagh. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  ARMAGH.  453 

St.  John,  child  of  the  Bible,  the  humble  missionary  early  dis- 
covered the  power  of  education,  and  from  his  free  schools  or 
colleges  sprung  up  a  cultivated  nation  and  a  ceaseless  throng 
of  saints  and  scholars,  poets  and  priests. 

Touching  is  it  to  remember  .that  when,  seven  centuries  later, 
Dermot,  Henry,  and  the  Pope  were  conspiring  to  let  loose 
upon  Ireland  the  horrors  of  an  inexpiable  war,  to  destroy  its 
freedom,  to  crush  its  Church,  and  to  blot  from  existence  its 
colleges  and  schools,  Roderic  O'Connor  gave  a  munificent  and 
a  last  endowment  to  the  master  of  the  University  of  Armagh. 
He  remembered  the  heroes  and  saints  who  had  been  educated 
within  its  walls ;  he  felt  the  power  of  knowledge.(')  An  an- 
nual donation  of  ten  cows  was  settled  upon  the  office.  The 
generous  prince  declared  that  his  gift  was  designed  to  educate 
freely  the  youth  of  Ireland  and  Scotland,  and  to  advance  the 
taste  for  letters.(^)  Soon  the  tide  of  war  rolled  over  the  isl- 
and ;  Armagh  was  sacked  and  deserted ;  Irish  literature  and 
learning  ceased  to  adorn  the  world;  and  the  free  system  of 
education  established  by  St.  Patrick  was  blotted  from  exist- 
ence by  envious  Rome. 

To  a  still  hoher  shrine  of  Celtic  piety  and  genius  we  may 
turn  as  we  close  our  retrospect.  Across  the  waves,  near  the 
Scottish  shore,  lie  the  tombs  and  ruins  of  lona.  Two  recent 
and  accomplished  writers  have  essayed  to  paint  the  landscape 
that  met  the  eyes  of  the  Irish  saint  and  the  waves  that  mur- 
mured to  his  prayers.^ )     The  warm  fancy  of  the  Southern 

(*)  Four  Masters,  ii.,  1171.  See  Trias  Thaum.,  p.  310.  "Rodericus  rex 
Bummopere  cupiens  iu  academia  Ardmochaua  studia  promovere — -ea  cou- 
ditione  et  studinm  generale  pro  scholaribus,  tarn  ex  Hibernia  unde  quo- 
que,  qnara  ex  Albania  adventantibus."  The  Four  Masters  say  that  Eoderic 
gave  it  in  honor  of  St.  Patrick,  and  to  instruct  yonth  in  literature. 

C')  Ten  cows  yearly  was  a  munificent  endowment.  The  Brehon  law  al- 
lows six  cows  as  the  price  of  a  queen's  wardrobe.  Vallancey,  Col.  i.,  App. 
By  the  example  of  a  modern  court  the  income  of  the  rector  may  be  esti- 
mated at  a  very  high  rate.  Compared  to  his  modern  successors,  he  was 
wealthy ;  for  what  professor  would  not  be  content  with  an  income  nearly 
twice  the  value  of  a  queen's  wardrobe  ? 

C)  Montalembert,  Monks  of  tho  West,  and  the  Duke  of  Argyll's  loua, 
paint  its  different  aspects. 


454  THE  CONQUEST  OF  IRELAND. 

Celt  sees  only  the  cold  and  misty  sky,  the  barren  rocks,  the 
pale  Sim  of  the  North,  the  wild  and  stormy  ocean  ;  the  High- 
land chief  adorns  the  scene  with  richer  colors.  Ked  cliffs  rise 
out  of  an  emerald  sea;  the  heavy  banks  of  clouds  far  out 
on  the  western  main  are  lighted  with  dazzling  sunshine ;  the 
blue  outline  of  the  Scottish  coast,  a  throng  of  islets,  bare  or 
verdant,  and  the  endless  waste  of  the  dim  Atlantic — an  un- 
rivaled wealth  of  sea,  cloud,  and  sky — surround  the  home  of 
Columba.  But,  more  majestic  than  nature's  grandest  aspect, 
ever  hovers  over  his  beloved  isle  the  form  of  the  holy  teacher 
proclaiming  its  immortal  renown,  and  the  rulers  and  the"  peo- 
ple of  many  lands  have  fulfilled  his  proj)hecy,  and  nations 
have  worshiped  at  his  shrine.(') 

It  is  possible  that  from  lona  and  Armagh,  from  Patrick 
and  Columba,  from  the  free  school  and  the  free  Church,  may 
come  the  restoration  of  the  Celtic  race ;  that  a  fallen  but  vig- 
orous people,  long  corrupted  and  degraded  by  superstitious 
ignorance,  may  submit  to  a  nobler  conquest  of  reason  and 
humanity ;  and  that  Irishmen,  in  every  land,  may  once  more 
learn  from  their  ancient  teachers  modesty,  docility,  gentleness 
— the  foundations  of  mental  strength. 

(')  Colnmba  prophesied  that  every  barbarous  and  foreign  nation  ■would 
celebrate  the  renown  of  hia  narrow  and  barren  isle. 


THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

The  annals  of  man  offer  few  more  varied,  more  magnifi- 
cent, or  more  touching  records  tlian  those  of  the  Eastern 
Church ;(')  and  from  its  dim  yet  hallowed  origin,  through  its 
long  career  of  worldly  triumph  and  of  spiritual  joy,  of  bitter 
overthrows  and  of  swift  decline,  of  fresh  revivals  and  unpre- 
cedented strength,  until  to-day  it  rules  over  half  Europe,  and 
threatens  the  subjugation  of  Asia  from  the  Indus  to  the  China 
seas,  a  sui-passing  interest  has  ever  followed  the  only  Christian 
body  that  can  claim  a  visible  descent  from  the  companions  of 
its  founder.  A  cloud  of  doubt,  of  fable,  or  conjecture,  rests 
upon  the  pretensions  of  the  Church  of  Kome ;  the  legend  of 
St.  Peter  relies  upon  no  contemporary  proof,  and  belongs  to 
the  domain  of  faith  rather  than  of  history  ;  nor  does  any  Prot- 
estant communion  profess  to  trace  its  origin  through  an  un- 
broken line  of  presbyters  and  bishops  to  the  apostolic  age. 
But  the  Oriental  Church  seems  possessed  of  a  well-authenti- 
cated genealogy.  Its  language  is  still  that  in  which  the  Gos- 
pels were  written  and  Polycarp  and  Ignatius  preached ;  its 
melodious  ritual(')  reaches  back  to  the  days  of  Constantine 
and  Athanasius ;  its  great  patriarchates,  that  sprung  up  in  the 
veritable  homes  of  the  apostles,  are  yet  faintly  delineated  in 
the  feeble  churches  of  Alexandria,  Jerusalem,  and  Constanti- 
nople ;  along  the  fair  shores  of  Syria  and  Asia  Minor  the  shat- 
tered ruins  of  the  Christian  Church  have  outlived  the  fallen 
shrines  of  Antioch  or  Ephesus ;  and  from  the  city  of  Con- 
stantine, the  capital  of  the  Christian  world,  has  flowed  a  regu- 

(')  Mouravieff,  Hist.  Russ.  Church,  trans.  Stanley,  Eastern  Church,  has 
made  free  and  effective  use  of  the  Russian  historian,  besides  his  own  care- 
ful researches, 

{^)  King,  Rites,  etc.,  of  the  Greek  Church  ;  Rcuaudot,  Liturg.  Orient., 
1847,  Paris,  p.  30  ;  Neule,  Patriarchates. 


456  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

lar  apostolic  succession,  whose  members  still  minister  to  de- 
vout congregations  from  the  Kremlin  to  Solovetsky. 

Scholar  as  well  as  theologian  will  iind  much  in  the  annals 
of  the  Greek  Church  to  touch  his  sympathy  and  startle  his 
curiosity.  The  genius  of  Attic  civilization  seems  often  re- 
vived in  its  teachings ;  the  humane  and  liberal  spirit  of  phi- 
losophers and  poets,  the  gentler  impulses  of  Plato  or  Socrates, 
are  renewed,  together  with  their  names,  through  all  those  bar- 
barous races  that  were  educated  from  the  brilliant  schools  of 
Constantinople.  While  the  Latin  Church,  under  its  illiterate 
popes,  inculcated  persecution,  and  grew  into  a  fierce  and  ag- 
gressive political  desiDotism,  the  Greeks,  looking  ever  to  the 
teachings  of  Nice  and  of  Constantine,  have  preserved  a  hu- 
mane toleration.(')  As  if  in  tender  recollection  of  their  high 
intellectual  ancestry,  the  monks  of  Mount  Atlios  and  the 
priests  of  the  Kremlin  have  painted  on  the  walls  of  their  ca- 
thedrals the  venerable  faces  of  Homer,  Pythagoras,  or  Plato, 
and  admit  to  the  catalogue  of  the  just  the  sages  and  heroes 
who  prepared  the  path  of  Christianity.  In  Moscow  or  Nov- 
gorod, the  Mohammedan,  the  Lutheran,  and  the  Roman  Cath- 
olic are  permitted  to  enjoy  their  faith  and  their  religious  rites 
undisturbed.  No  St.  Bartholomew''s,  no  dragonnades,  no  ra- 
ging Inquisition,  no  hecatombs  of  martyrs,  no  strange  and 
cunning  tortures,  such  as  those  devised  by  the  keen  invention 
of  Jesuits  and  Romish  priests,  have  ever  defiled  the  venerable 
ministry  that  traces  its  origin  to  Ephesus  and  St.  John. 

Along  that  hot  but  luxuriant  shore,  reaching  from  the  falls 
of  the  Nile  to  the  lower  borders  of  the  Euxine,  still  fertile  at 
that  momentous  period  in  the  richest  productions  of  nature 
and  art,  the  land  of  Homer  and  Herodotus,  Scopas  and  Par- 
rhasius,  of  stately  architecture  and  perpetual  song,  the  East- 
ern Church,  at  the  opening  of  the  Council  of  Nice  and  the 
triumph  of  Constantine,  had  fixed  its  immutable  foundations. 
Its  mighty  bishoprics — seats  of  learning  as  well  as  of  abundant 

(')  Stanley,  Eastern  Church,  pp.  34,  35.  King,  p.  6-8,  notices  that  the 
Greeks  have  never  worshiped  the  Virgin  or  the  saints.  But  Covel,  Greek 
Church,  p.  376,  thinks  the  Greeks  "the  most  zealous  adorers  of  the  mother 
of  God." 


THE  SEVEN  CHURCHES.  457 

faith — seemed  the  corner-stones  of  Christianity.  Alexandria, 
Antioch,  and  the  Seven  Churches  were  flourishing  with  such 
outward  vigor  as  to  overshadow  the  feeble  Church  of  Eome 
and  the  missionary  stations  of  the  barbarous  West.  Kome,  in 
fact,  had  long  remained  a  Greek  congregation.  Its  bishops 
employed  the  Greek  language  in  their  writings  or  exhorta- 
tions ;(')  its  presbyter,  Anicetus,  admitted  the  superior  author- 
ity of  Polycarp  ;  its  members  were  obscure,  uncultivated,  and 
humbled  by  frequent  persecutions.  But,  in  the  great  cities  of 
the  East,  Christianity  already  had  invested  itself  with  material 
and  intellectual  splendor.  At  the  famous  schools  of  Alexan- 
dria the  keen  faculties  of  the  heretic,  Arius,  and  the  resolute 
genius  of  his  young  opponent,  Athanasius,  had  been  prepared 
for  that  vigorous  contest  that  was  to  divide  Christendom. 
In  all  the  Syrian  cities  Christianity  became  the  religion  of  the 
intellectual  classes.  Learning  and  philosophy  were  blended 
with  faith ;  the  Eastern  bishops  were  voluminous  writers,  po- 
ets, orators,  even  novelists ;  while  all  along  the  sacred  shore 
stately  churches  grew  up  above  the  ruins  of  the  pagan  tem- 
ples, the  Nile  was  lined  with  monasteries  and  cathedrals,  the 
cHffs  of  the  Grecian  coast  were  converted  into  pious  strong- 
holds, the  abode  of  cultivated  eremites ;(')  the  soft  music  and 
the  gay  processions  of  the  classic  creed  were  borrowed  to  en- 
large and  corrupt  the  Christian  ritual ;  and  the  Greek  Church 
had  already  assumed  something  of  its  modern  form. 

At  length  (325),  with  cries  of  victory  and  peace,  the  Coun- 
cil of  Nice  assembled.  Martyrs  and  confessors,  maimed  bish- 
ops and  eyeless  hermits,  cultivated  scholars  from  the  learned 
seminaries  of  Egypt  and  Alexandria,  monks  from  the  The- 
baid,  and  anchorites  from  the  desert,  gathered  at  the  call  of 
Constantine  to  decide  the  doctrines  and  the  usages  of  the  tri- 

(')  The  epistles  of  Clemeut  are  in  Greek.  Paul  wrote  in  Greek  to  the 
Romans. 

(■)  The  Egyptian  ascetics  appear  about  the  middle  of  the  third  century. 
The  practice  was  rapidly  adoiited.  Of  the  monasteries  of  Mount  Athos 
some  boast  an  origin  at  least  contemporary  with  Constantine.  See  Cur- 
zon,  Levant,  p.  340.  The  Vatopede  is  said  to  have  had  Constantine  for  its 
founder. 


458  THE  GREEK  CRUECH. 

iimpliant  Clmrcli.  Amidst  its  eager  and  clamorous  tlirong 
wandered  the  inspired  dwarf  Atlianasius,  deformed,  with  glit- 
tering eyes ;  or  the  tall,  emaciated  Arius,  wasted  with  penance 
and  conscious  of  defeat,  summoning  his  followers  to  that  in- 
tellectual combat  whose  decision  was  to  fix  the  opinions  of 
half  mankind.  Yet  the  decrees  of  the  first,  perhaps  the  only, 
general  council  deserving  of  a  lasting  veneration  are  observed 
alone  by  the  obedient  Greeks.  Imperious  Rome  has  long 
neglected  its  injunctions  and  interpolated  its  creed.  Protest- 
antism has  preferred  to  revive  the  simpler  usages  of  the  apos- 
tolic age.  But  the  Eastern  Church  has  remained  immutable. 
Its  clergy  are  married ;  its  creed  is  still  that  of  Constantine 
and  of  Nice ;  the  worship  of  Mary  has  never  been  allowed 
to  overshadow  the  purer  rites  of  a  cultivated  age ;  the  priest 
has  never  aspired  to  a  temporal  supremacy;  the  Scriptures 
are  still  read  in  the  national  language  in  its  churches ;  the  au- 
thority of  the  sultan  or  the  czar  is  admitted  in  the  selection 
of  its  patriarchs  and  bishops.  The  mild  genius  of  Constan- 
tine founded  an  ecclesiastical  system  that  for  fifteen  centuries 
has  obeyed  his  precepts  and  reverenced  his  fame. 

To  Constantine  the  Eastern  Church  was  to  owe  its  central 
shrine.  The  Christian  capital  arose  on  the  verge  of  Europe 
and  of  Asia,  over  whose  mental  and  religious  progress  it  was 
never  to  lose  its  influence,  in  the  fairest  site  kno"UTi  to  the 
ancient  world.  The  waters  of  the  Euxine  rushed  before  the 
city  of  Constantine,  through  a  long  and  sometimes  narrow 
strait,  to  mingle  with  the  ^gean.  By  its  side  the  Golden 
Horn  offered  a  safe  and  almost  tideless  harbor ;  ships  from 
Arabia  and  from  Scythia  might  meet  in  the  friendly  shelter. 
Around  it  opened  a  landscape  rich  with  the  later  results  of 
Greek  cultivation ;  and  the  delusive  beauties  of  the  modern 
city  can  only  faintly  reflect  the  magnificence  of  the  scene  when 
the  shores  of  the  thickly  wooded  Propontis  were  cultivated 
with  Attic  elegance,(')  and  the  marble  churches  and  palaces  of 
Constantine  covered  the  swelling  promontory  from  the  harbor 

(')  Gibbon  often  describes  the  attractions  of  Constantinople.  Von  Ham- 
mer, Constantinople,  etc.,  may  be  consulted. 


CONSTANTINOPLE.  459 

to  the  glittering  sea.  Nothing  was  wanting,  except  perhaps 
creative  genius,  to  make  the  new  Rome  the  chief  of  cities. 
The  weahh  of  an  empire  was  Lavished  in  its  decoration. 
"Within  ten  years  it  attained  a  splendor  that  might  rival  the 
fruits  of  ten  centuries  of  the  slow  progress  of  ancient  Eome. 
The  new  Romulus  traced  the  circuit  and  witnessed  the  com- 
pletion of  his  capital.  Its  temples  were  brighter  than  the  yel- 
low columns  of  the  Parthenon ;  its  circus  more  spacious  than 
that  of  Tarquin  ;  its  baths,  aqueducts,  and  fountains,  its  abun- 
dant markets  and  its  stately  churches,  provided  for  the  re- 
quirements of  a  population  that  sprung  iip  with  artificial  vig- 
or ;  and  for  more  than  a  thousand  years,  amidst  the  barbarous 
turmoil  of  mediaeval  Europe,  Constantinople  outshone  all  its 
rivals,  even  in  its  slow  decay. 

It  was  a  museum  and  a  store-house  for  the  ravished  treas- 
ures of  Greece.  A  tripod  of  serpents  from  Delphi,  statues 
from  the  deserted  temples  of  the  ancient  faith,  columns  carved 
in  the  days  of  Phidias,  gems  and  precious  stones  from  the  cor- 
onals of  ancient  deities,  libraries  gathered  in  the  home  of  phi- 
losophy, the  writings  of  the  fathers,  the  poets,  and  the  sages, 
found  shelter  in  the  halls  of  Constantino,  when  the  museum 
of  Alexandria  was  made  desolate,  and  the  Acropolis  had  be- 
come the  haunt  of  robbers.  Protected  by  its  fortunate  situ- 
ation and  its  lofty  walls,  Constantinople  held  securely  within 
its  bosom  its  precious  deposit.  A  last  bulwark  of  civilization 
when  all  the  world  was  savage,  its  schools  still  employed  the 
language  of  Homer;  its  students  read  Euripides  or  dreamed 
of  Plato ;  the  wisdom  which  had  been  lost  to  all  other  men 
was  still  familiar  to  its  children ;  the  priests  of  the  Greek 
Church  were  all  cultivated,  and  often  gifted  with  rare  ability  ; 
and  while  the  Latin  clergy  could  seldom  read  or  write,  a  liv- 
ing fountain  of  true  learning  fertilized  the  intellect  of  the 
East. 

With  the  death  of  its  founder  a  remarkable  revolution 
passed  over  the  Christian  capital,  and  under  the  rule  of  the 
corrupt  Constantius  the  opinions  of  the  heretic  Arius  were 
enforced  upon  its  clergy  and  its  people  ;  the  whole  Christian 
world  seemed  converted  by  the  subtle  argument  of  the  new 


460  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

sect.(')  The  great  see  of  Alexandria,  almost  imperial  in  pow- 
er and  state,  was  governed  by  an  Arian  bishop ;  Antioch  and 
Jerusalem  yielded  to  the  arts  of  the  emperor ;  Rome  and  dis- 
tant Spain  obeyed  his  commands  ;(")  but  Athanasius,  and  per- 
hajDS  the  majority  of  the  laity,  still  defended  the  Trinitarian- 
ism  of  Nice,  and  the  latent  principle  of  Christianity  was  kept 
in  remembrance  by  the  sharp  diatribes  of  the  exiled  prelate. 
Bitter,  vindictive,  magnanimous,  unconquerable,  a  weary  life 
awaited  the  presbyter  who  had  defeated  Arius  in  his  early 
vigor,  but  who  seemed  at  last  to  have  sunk  in  his  old  age  into 
a  forlorn  and  powerless  victim  before  the  avenging  sj)irit  of 
his  fallen  foe.  The  cruelty  and  the  keen  persecutions  of  the 
Arians  drove  Athanasius  to  a  savage  retreat  in  the  wilderness, 
and  oppressed  his  adherents  with  bitter  tortures.  Yet  more 
than  once  the  heroic  Copt,  his  diminutive  frame  inspired  by  a 
genuine  courage,  came  out  from  his  hiding-place  to  terrify  the 
court  and  the  hostile  clergy  into  an  insincere  compromise; 
often  the  faithful  Egyptians  concealed,  at  the  peril  of  life  and 
fortune,  the  great  head  of  their  Church.  Of  all  the  spectacles 
witnessed  at  Alexandria,  the  most  memorable  was  the  recep- 
tion of  Athanasius  after  his  first  exile  and  return.  The  whole 
Eg}q3tian  population  poured  out  like  a  swelling  Nile  —  it  is 
the  figure  of  the  narrator — to  greet  with  shouts  of  joy  and 
adoration  the  national  saint.  On  the  one  side  a  huge  mass  of 
dusky  children  lined  the  broad  highway ;  the  men  and  wom- 
en, separated  into  two  vast  hosts,  as  was  the  Oriental  custom, 
rolled  out  of  the  city  gates,  an  endless  stream ;  every  trade 
and  profession  was  ranged  in  order ;  branches  of  trees  were 
waved  aloft ;  the  richest  carpets  of  the  Alexandrian  looms 
were  flung,  radiant  with  gay  colors  and  costly  figures,  in  the 
pathway  of  the  hero ;  and  when  his  feeble  form  rose  on  the 
sight,  one  wild  burst  of  acclamation  broke  from  myriads  of 
hps.     Countless  hands  were  clapped  with  rapturous  joy,  and 

(')  Mosheim,  i.,  p.  345;  Gieseler,  i.,  p.  302;  Gibbon,  iii.,  p.  11.  Constan- 
tiuople  was  the  principal  seat  and  fortress  of  Ariauism. 

C)  See  Hefele,  Con.,  i.,  p.  658;  Milmau,  Hist.  Christ.,  ii.,  p.  431.  Tlie 
forced  apostasy  of  Hosius  and  Liberius  is  well  known.  I  need  not  allude 
to  the  vain  controversy. 


THE  DOME  OF  ST.  SOPHIA.  461 

the  most  precious  ointments,  cast  before  him,  filled  the  air 
with  fragrance.  At  night  the  whole  city  glowed  with  a  gen- 
eral illumination,  and  in  every  house  rich  entertainments  in- 
vited perpetual  guests.  An  unusual  religious  fervor  followed. 
Men,  women,  children,  hid  themselves  in  convents,  or  sought 
a  hermitage  in  the  desert ;  the  hungry  were  fed,  the  orphans 
sheltered,  and  every  household,  filled  with  devotion,  seemed 
transformed  into  a  Christian  church. 

Through  a  weary  life  of  ceaseless  persecution  Athanasius(') 
passed  onward  to  old  age  and  death.  But  his  victory  was  at 
last  secured.  Constantinople,  Rome,  and  Alexandria  returned 
to  the  Trinitarian  faith,  and  the  great  Theodosius  reigned  in 
the  Christian  capital  over  an  undivided  church.  The  fair 
and  prosperous  city  of  Constantine  became  now  the  admit- 
ted head  of  Christendom.  Eome,  sacked  and  depopulated  by 
Goth  and  Yandal,  almost  ceased  to  dispute  the  supremacy  of 
the  Eastern  bishops ;  the  Patriarch  of  Constantinople  claimed 
a  universal  rule ;  the  Popes  feebly  or  violently  protested 
against  the  assumption ;  the  Eastern  emperors  selected  or  de- 
posed at  will  the  Latin  bishops ;  Justinian  and  Belisarius 
scoffed  at  the  fallen  priests  of  the  ancient  capital. 

From  Justinian  the  Eastern  Church  was  to  borrow  that 
novel  and  pleasing  style  of  architecture  which  was  to  adorn 
the  Kremlin  and  satisfy  the  fancy  of  Moslem  or  Christian, 
whose  glittering  domes  and  lavish  decorations  of  gems  and 
gold  are  more  grateful  to  the  Oriental  taste  than  the  wildest 
or  the  grandest  of  the  Gothic  minsters ;  and  in  his  long  and 
wasteful  reign  churches  and  monasteries  were  scattered  with 
profuse  hand  over  his  tottering  empire.  It  is  the  character- 
istic of  feeble  rulers  to  seek  for  renown  in  huge  or  costly 
buildings.  The  active  but  imbecile  Justinian  toiled  to  com- 
plete the  splendor  of  Constantinople,  and  to "  make  it  worthy 
of  himself.     Nor  was  he  unsuccessful.     The  magnificence  of 

(')  Such  was  the  pre-eminence  of  Alexandria  in  mathematics  that  to  its 
bishops  only  was  given  the  duty  of  fixing  the  beginning  of  Lent  and  the 
Easter  season.  The  bishop  issued  every  year  a  festal  letter.  Those  of 
Athanasius  have  recently  been  discovered.  See  Curetou,  Festal  Let.  of 
Athauasius. 


462  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

the  decaying  capital  was  perfected  by  the  last  resources  of  an 
impoverished  world.  A  throng  of  stately  churches,  a  palace 
of  unequaled  splendor,  groves,  gardens,  and  public  edifices, 
rich  with  varied  marbles,  mosaics,  and  gold,  covered  anew  the 
fortunate  site  where  Constantine  had  first  transplanted  the 
simpler  forms  of  Grecian  architecture,  and  preserved  the 
memory  of  the  Doric  temple  or  the  Corinthian  shaft.  But 
under  Justinian  arose  that  tall  and  graceful  dome  of  St.  So- 
phia, the  most  wonderful  of  the  inventions  of  the  later  ar- 
chitects, whose  fair  proportions  still  rise  over  the  Moslem  city, 
and  reproach  the  Eastern  Church  with  the  spectacle  of  its 
desecrated  shrine.(')  St.  Sophia  was  built  of  brick,  but  coated 
with  marble ;  its  exterior,  like  the  churches  of  the  Kremlin, 
could  never  have  been  imposing ;  but  no  sooner  had  the  spec- 
tator passed  its  gates  of  bronze  than  he  was  dazzled  by  a  pro- 
fusion of  rare  embellishments  such  as  St.  Peter's  can  scarcely 
surpass.  Above  him  soared  the  central  cupola,  surrounded  by 
six  smaller  domes,  covered  with  heavy  gilding  and  gleaming 
with  varied  colors.  A  hundred  columns  of  jasper,  porphyry, 
or  costly  marble,  torn  from  ancient  temples,  and  dissimilar  in 
form  and  carving,  sustained  the  lofty  roof.  Tlie  altar  was  a 
pile  of  silver.  The  sacred  utensils  were  of  purest  gold,  stud- 
ded with  inestimable  gems.  From  the  walls  looked  down  the 
figures  of  saints  and  angels ;  and  in  the  form  of  a  Greek 
cross  the  magnificence  of  St.  Sophia  opened  at  once  upon  the 
observer,  and  presented  all  its  gilding,  its  mosaics,  and  its 
bronzes,  its  gold  and  gems,  at  a  single  glance.  In  its  modern 
dress  only  the  bare  and  dusky  walls  and  the  graceful  domes 
remain  ;  the  priceless  ornaments  of  the  shrine  and  chancel  are 
gone ;  yet  the  columns  of  porphyry  from  the  Temple  of  the 
Sun,  and  the  green  marbles  of  Ephesus,  may  yet  be  distin- 
guished, and  the  dull  echoes  of  Mohammedan  eloquence  seem 
profane  and  dissonant  in  the  desecrated  shrine  where  once  the 
Christian  world  collected  its  treasures  and  poured  forth  its 
prayers. 

(')  Gibbon's  account  of  St.  Sophia,  iii.,  p.  523,  has  been  enlarged  by  mofl- 
ern  investigations.  See  Von  Hammer,  Constantinople  und  der  Bosporus, 
i.,  p.  34G  ;  Byzantine  Arch.,  Toxier  aiul  riillan,  p.  21-59. 


ST.  SOPHIA.  463 

To  perfect  his  grand  conception  of  a  Christian  cathedral, 
Justinian  labored  with  an  ardor  that  never  tired.     Often  he 
was  seen  under  the  glare  of  the  noonday  sun,  while  all  others 
slept,  clad  in  a  coarse  linen  tunic,  a  staff  in  his  hand,  his  head 
bound  with  a  hnen  cloth,  directing  his  workmen,  urging  on 
the  indolent,  and  stimulating  the  industrious.     Tradition  re- 
lates that  angelic  visions  guided  him  in  his  labors  and  suggest- 
ed his  happiest  ideas.(')     A  spiritual  guest  revealed  to  him  a 
hidden  treasure ;  a  figure  robed  in  white  descended  on  the  sa- 
cred site,  and  was  deluded  by  the  acute  emperor  into  a  prom- 
ise to  remain  forever.     But  the  ceaseless  industry  of  ten  thou- 
sand laborers,  toiling  often  by  night  and  day,  in  the  course  of 
six  years  completed  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Wisdom.     Four 
columns,  tall,  graceful,  and  firm,  sustained  the  swelling  dome. 
Its  tiles  of  Rhodian  clay  were  the  lightest  of  building  materi- 
als.    Its  height  from  the  pavement  was  one  hundred  and  sev- 
enty-nine feet,  its  breadth  one  hundred.     Twenty -four  low 
and  rounded  windows  threw  streams  of  light  through  its 
groined  ribs  of  equal  number.     Four  colossal  figures  of  winged 
seraphim  adorned  its  four  angles  ;  and  from  its  summit  looked 
down  the  majestic  face  of  Christ,  the  Sovereign  Judge,  wdiose 
noble  aspect  is  still  imitated  or  reproduced  in  every  Byzantine 
cathedral.     At  the  eastern  end  of  the  pillared  nave,  the  climax 
of  the  magnificent  interior,  arose  the  silver  screen  of  the  altar, 
composed  of  twelve  pillars  wrought  with  arabesque  devices, 
twined  into  pairs,  and  graced  with  holy  faces.      A  massive 
cross  of  gold  appeared  above.     The  table  of  the  altar  was 
formed  of  molten  gold,  into  which  the  most  costly  gems  had 
been  cast  in  uncounted  masses.     Behind  the  altar,  seats  of  sil- 
ver, separated  by  golden  pillars,  were  arranged  for  the  bishop 
and  clergy.     Tall  candelabra  of  gold,  of  the  richest  workman- 
ship, threw  a  soft  light  over  the  glittering  scene.     A  pulpit,  a 
throne  for  the  emperor  and  one  for  the  patriarch,  and  seats 
for  innumerable  priests,  probably  filled  all  the  space  of  the 

(')  Paul  the  Sileutiary,  and  Anonymi,  in  Bandiiri,  p.  61.  The  late  sultan 
permitted  St.  Sophia  to  be  studied,  the  walls  purified,  the  figures  copied, 
but  re-covered.  See  Fossati,  drawings  litliographed  by  Hnguc :  Loudon, 
1854.     For  the  first  time  they  were  seen  since  1453. 


404  TEE  GREEK  CHUBCH. 

eastern  end.  The  altar  cloths  were  stiff  with  gold  and  gems, 
and  patriarch  and  emperor  were  adorned  with  robes  encum- 
bered with  the  spoils  of  ages. 

Such  was  the  monument  of  barbaric  follj  which  Justinian 
transmitted  to  the  Eastern  Church.  Feeble  vanity,  religious 
ardor,  artistic  genius,  and  inhuman  waste  are  all  exemplified 
in  the  story  of  the  Greek  cathedral.  The  world  groaned  with 
taxation  and  misery  that  the  corrupt  Church  might  possess  a 
gorgeous  shrine ;  yet  the  great  edifice  has  proved  more  lasting 
than  any  of  its  contemporaries,  and  promises  to  be  almost  as 
enduring  as  that  grotesque,  half-barbarous,  and  haK-imbecile 
scheme  of  law  which  Justinian  embodied  in  the  Pandects 
and  the  Novels.(')  Often  shattered  by  earthquakes  or  defaced 
by  insurrections,  plundered  by  conquerors  and  stripped  by  the 
Turk,  St.  Sophia  has  outlived  the  cathedrals  of  Charlemagne 
and  the  early  basilicas  of  Rome.  It  preceded  by  nearly  a 
thousand  years  the  foundation  of  St.  Peter's.  It  opened  a  new 
era  in  architecture.  Its  graceful  dome  has  been  imitated  at 
Moscow  and  Novgorod,  in  Florence  and  Rome.  The  bound- 
less richness  of  its  interior  decorations  has  been  nearly  rivaled 
in  the  Kremlin  or  the  churches  of  St.  Petersburg. C^)  Yet  no 
modern  cathedral  can  recall  such  splendid  and  such  touching 
memories  as  those  that  cluster  around  the  central  shrine  of  the 
Eastern  Church.  On  Christmas-day,  in  the  year  538,  its  found- 
er dedicated  his  stately  labors  with  a  j^ompous  pageant  that 
exhausted  the  wealth  and  the  invention  of  his  emj^ire.  The 
great  bronze  doors  rolled  open.  The  emperor,  clothed  in  jDur- 
ple ;  the  patriarch,  radiant  with  cloth  of  gold ;  a  host  of  inferi- 
or clergy,  arrayed  in  the  rich  vesture  of  a  corrupt  ritual,  filled 
the  silver  seats  around  the  altar.  The  golden  candlesticks 
poured  down  their  light.  The  courtiers  and  the  people  cov- 
ered the  wide  expanse  of  the  nave  or  dome.  The  graceful 
galleries  were  thronged  with  the  fairest  and  the  noblest 
women  of  Constantinople ;  and  Justinian,  in  grateful  exulta- 

(')  I  would  scarcely  wish  to  do  injustice  to  Justiniau's  codifiers ;  but  Ga- 
ius  is  better  than  his  imitator,  and  the  Twelve  Tables  better  than  Gaius. 

{^)  The  Church  of  St.  Isaac,  at  St.  Petersburg,  is  said  to  surpass  all  that 
man  can  conceive  of  splendor.     Dicey. 


THE  OBIENTAL  SHRINE.  4G5 

tion,  with  arms  outstretclied  and  lifted  in  the  attitude  of 
prayer,  exclaimed,  "  Glory  to  God,  who  has  deemed  me  wor- 
thy of  such  a  work !  I  have  conquered  thee,  O  Solomon !" 
The  chant  of  countless  choristers  swelled  through  the  pil- 
lared aisles.  Immense  sums  were  expended  in  lavish  gifts  to 
the  poor,  and  the  whole  city  shared  in  the  boundless  yet  too 
transient  satisfaction  of  its  master. 

For  nine  centuries,  in  St.  Sophia  emperors  were  enthroned, 
patriarchs  installed,  and  the  Christian  festivals  celebrated  with 
Oriental  pomp.  It  was  the  favorite  scene  for  the  display  of 
the  feeble  magnificence  of  the  Byzantine  court.  The  impe- 
rial marriages  and  baptisms  were  celebrated  at  its  altar ;  and 
above  the  holy  spot,  in  the  vain  pride  of  Greek  exclusiveness, 
was  inscribed  the  law  forbidding  the  marriage  of  a  Byzantine 
prince  with  a  stranger.  Often  its  interior  witnessed  wild 
outrages  and  riotous  fanaticism ;  its  pavements  were  stain- 
ed with  blood  in  the  fierce  struggle  of  the  image  -  breakers. 
From  its  j^ulpit  Photius  pronounced  the  excommunication  of 
Rome  and  the  separation  of  the  two  churches.  The  sweet 
music  of  its  choristers  and  the  splendor  of  its  rites  converted 
the  Russians  to  the  faith  of  Constantine.  It  was  desecrated 
with  barbarous  sacrileges  by  the  Latin  Crusaders ;  a  papal 
priest  sat  for  a  moment  in  the  chair  of  Photius ;  and  the  ha- 
tred of  the  Greeks  for  the  Latins  sprung  up  with  new  inten- 
sity as  they  saw  the  brutal  deeds  of  the  chivalry  of  the  West. 
"  Rather,"  they  cried,  "  would  we  see  the  turban  of  Moham- 
med than  the  pope's  tiara  in  Constantinople."  At  length,  in 
the  opening  of  the  tenth  century  of  its  existence,  the  vast  ca- 
thedral beheld  the  most  dreadful  of  all  its  woes.  Amidst  the 
groans  and  cries  of  the  host  of  dying  Greeks,  Mohammed  II. 
strode  up  its  blood-stained  nave,  and  proclaimed  from  its  higli 
altar  the  God  and  Prophet  of  an  accursed  faith.(')  A  gold- 
en crescent  was  raised  above  the  dome  of  St.  Sophia.  The 
Greek  Church,  fallen  and  powerless,  yet  wept  over  the  dese- 

(')  "Die  Miinner  wurden  mit  Stricken,  die  Wciber  mit  ihren  Giirteln 
zwey  nud  zwey  ziisammengebuuden."  Von  Hammer,  i.,  p.  550.  The  des- 
olation of  St.  Sophia  was  completed  by  the  iilunder  of  its  ornaments  and 
the  covering-np  of  its  pictnres. 

30 


■iQQ  THE   GREEK  CHURCH. 

cration  of  its  central  shrine  as  the  chief  of  its  hnmiliations ; 
nor  in  all  its  wide  domain  is  there  to-day  a  priest  or  layman 
who  does  not  remember  that  St.  Sophia  was  torn  from  his 
ancestors  by  the  savage  Turk,  or  long  for  the  day  of  its  res- 
toration. 

Not  from  Goth  or  Hun,  from  the  fierce  tribes  of  the  Ger- 
man forests  who  had  stricken  down  the  mighty  fabric  of  the 
Latin  rule,  was  to  come  the  final  desolation  of  the  Eastern 
Church.  In  the  opening  of  the  seventh  century  it  still  re- 
tained an  exterior  grandeur  that  overawed  the  feebler  sees  of 
Western  Christendom.  The  authority  of  Constantinople,  in 
Church  and  State,  was  admitted  at  Antioch  and  Alexandria, 
in  Africa  and  Italy.  Rome,  already  ambitious  and  avaricious, 
was  a  humble  dependency  of  the  Eastern  empire.  The  arms 
of  Parses  and  Belisarius  had  alone  saved  the  fallen  capital 
from  the  rule  of  an  Arian  chief,  and  perhaps  an  Arian 
pope.(')  Nor  was  it  without  a  reasonable  sense  of  superior 
intelligence  as  well  as  power  that  the  bishops  of  Constantino- 
ple had  assumed  the  title  of  Universal  Patriarch,  and  claimed 
a  general  control  of  the  Christian  Church.  Gothic  Spain  was 
yet  held  by  the  Arians ;  the  great  Lombard  kingdom  of 
Northern  Italy  still  threatened  to  enforce  the  doctrines  of 
Arius  upon  the  Catholics  of  Rome  and  Naples ;  at  Alexandria 
the  native  Copts  clung  to  the  Monophysite  heresy,  and  sub- 
mitted reluctantly  to  the  supremacy  of  the  Greeks ;  yet  the 
Patriarch  of  Constantinople  was  still  tlie  chief  head  of  Catho- 
lic orthodoxy,  and  from  the  pulpit  of  St.  Sophia  instructed 
an  obedient  world. 

It  was  the  sword  of  the  Saracen  that  swept  into  sudden  ruin 
the  venerable  seats  of  early  Christianity.  Tlie  children  of 
the  Arabian  deserts  are  divided  into  two  hostile  and  dissimi- 
lar families  —  the  dwellers  in  cities  and  the  dwellers  in  the 
sands.f )  The  former,  assuming  the  pacific  habits  of  the  mer- 
chant, had  laid  aside  the  savage  virtues  and  vices  of  the  Bed- 

(')  How  nearly  Eome  became  Arian  forever,  Tvhen  its  infallible  popes 
mnst  have  propagated  fatal  heresy,  may  be  seen  in  the  history  of  the 
time.     It  was  long  a  qnostion  whetlicr  Arianism  wonlcl  not  rule  the  West. 

C)  AmarijLa  Storia  dei  Musulmani  di  Sicilia,  i.,  p.  34. 


THE  ARABS  AND   THE  GREEK  CHURCH.  467 

ouin.  Tliey  lived  in  the  rich  fields  of  Yemen  and  Arabia  the 
Happy;  their  fleet  ships  bore  the  spices  of  the  East  to  the 
docks  of  Rome  and  the  coast  of  Coromandel ;  their  caravans 
had  founded  and  cherished  the  jjrosperity  of  Hira  and  Pal- 
myra. But  it  was  not  from  the  more  civilized  Arabs  that  the 
swift  storm  of  reform  was  to  break  over  dying  intellect  and 
virtue.  The  fiery  children  of  the  desert,  free,  impetuous,  in- 
dependent ;  whose  companions  from  infancy  had  been  the 
boundless  landscape  of  sand  and  sky,  the  hot  sun,  the  splendid 
wanderers  of  the  night ;  who  never  rested,  who  had  no  home 
nor  possessions  but  the  dromedary  and  a  tent,  were  now  to  be 
moved  by  great  thoughts,  and  to  issue  from  Arabia  armed 
with  a  comparative  truth.  Amidst  the  wide  decay  of  Chris- 
tianity, the  apparent  flight  of  honesty  and  mental  vigor  from 
the  earth,  the  cry  of  fallen  human  nature  for  reform  was  an- 
swered by  a  wild  voice  from  Mecca.  A  Bedouin,  though  soft- 
ened somewhat  by  a  more  pacific  life,  Mohammed  preached 
to  the  dull  world  God  and  himself. 

Mecca  is  described  as  one  of  those  j^laces  where  only  neces- 
sity or  habit  could  induce  men  to  dwell.(')  An  arid  valley, 
shut  in  by  bare  and  rugged  mountains,  is  watered  by  a  few 
feeble  springs  that  support  its  scanty  herbage.  The  hot  sun, 
the  perpetual  blasts  of  the  desert,  are  imprisoned  in  its  nar- 
row cleft,  and  the  surrounding  rocks  reflect  and  deepen  the 
torrid  heat.  Yet,  by  the  vigorous  impulse  of  a  single  active 
mind,  the  Arabian  village  became  the  rival  of  Rome  and  of 
Constantinople ;  and  when  Mohammed,  half  crazed  by  the 
problems  of  life  and  of  immortality,  prayed  and  fasted  amidst 
its  loftiest  cliffs,  he  was  preparing  the  swift  destruction  of 
that  degenerate  Christianity  that  had  grown  up  in  the  ven- 
erable churches  once  tended  by  Mark  and  Jolin.(^)  At  his 
death  his  followers  issued  from  the  desert,  and  the  sword  of 
the  Saracens,  during  the  seventh  and  eighth  centuries,  per- 
fected their  work  of  purification  or  of  desolation.     Jerusalem, 


(')  Muir,  Life  of  Mohammed,  vol.  i.,  p.  3. 

C)  Muir's  picture  of  the  youth  of  the  Prophet  is  the  most  complete  we 
have. 


468  THE  GEEEK  CHUECH. 

strewed  with  Christian  dead,  became  a  Moslem  shrine.  The 
fate  of  Damascus  has  grown  famous  in  prose  and  song.  The 
Seven  Churches,  the  crowns  of  seven  splendid  cities,  have  sunk 
into  almost  imdiscoverable  ruin.  Thyatira  is  lost,  and  Sardis 
a  bramblj  waste ;  and  travelers  search  in  vain  on  the  lonely 
sites  for  the  mighty  cathedrals  once  raised  in  honor  of  St. 
John  or  the  Holy  Wisdom,  and  for  some  trace  of  that  mag- 
nificence that  once  marked  the  Eastern  Church. (')  The  sword 
of  the  Saracens  swept  over  Egypt  and  Alexandria ;  the  great 
see  of  Athanasius  was  reduced  to  a  wretched  shadow;  the 
Nile  was  cleared  of  its  swarming  monasteries ;  and  Africa, 
Spain,  and  Sicily  were  readily  taught  to  abandon  the  idols  of 
Rome  for  the  invisible  deity  of  Mecca, 

The  city  of  Constantinople,  in  this  period  of  desolation,  em- 
braced all  that  was  yet  left  of  the  Christianity  of  the  East,  un- 
less, perhaps,  a  purer  faith  had  sprung  up  beneath  the  iron 
tread  of  Moslem  tyranny,  and  the  virtues  of  an  age  of  mar- 
tyrdom were  revived  among  the  obscure  and  forgotten  frag- 
ments of  the  churches  of  Asia  or  the  Nile.  But  all  the  visi- 
ble strength  of  the  Eastern  faith  seemed  shut  up,  with  the 
treasures  of  Greek  art,  within  the  walls  of  Constantinople. 
Twice  the  vast  hordes  of  ardent  Saracens  thronged  around  the 
trembling  city ;  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus  were  ravaged  by 
the  children  of  the  desert ;  and  it  seemed  probable  that  the 
Sclaves  of  Russia  and  the  Goths  of  Middle  Europe  must,  with 
the  fall  of  the  capital,  be  reduced  to  adopt  the  doctrines  and 
the  Prophet  of  Mecca.  But  for  the  powerful  walls  of  the 
Christian  citadel,  and  the  foresight  of  Constantine,  rather  than 
the  valor  of  its  trembling  emperors  and  people,  no  human 
arm  could  have  stayed  the  march  of  that  swarm  of  enthusiasts 
who  preached  and  fought  for  the  conversion  of  the  West ; 
and  a  more  successful  crusade  of  the  horsemen  of  Khorassan 
and  the  emirs  of  Mecca  would  have  planted  the  crescent  on 
the  walls  of  Mentz  or  Worms.  The  trembling  people  guard- 
ed their  gates ;  the  Greek  fire  destroyed  hosts  of  infidels ;  the 

(*)  For  the  desolation  of  the  Seven  Churches  see  Burton,  Arundel,  and 
Chandler. 


THE  POPES  AND   THE  EASTERN  CHURCH.  469 

Saracens  melted  away  in  the  inclement  winter ;  and  six  centu- 
ries passed,  during  which  Christianity  fixed  itself  in  the  heart 
of  Russia,  and  a  Christian  empire  had  civilized  and  conquer- 
ed the  Niebelungs  and  the  Hungarians,  the  Batavian  and  the 
Swede.  The  citadel  of  Constantine  gave  Christendom  six 
centuries  of  progress  before  it  yielded  to  the  shocks  of  time 
and  the  rage  of  the  Turks. 

Of  this  period  of  comjiarative  rest  the  most  memorable 
event  was  the  final  separation  of  the  Greek  from  the  Latin 
Church  and  the  deposition  of  the  bishop  of  the  West  from  an 
equal  station  in  the  Christian  hierarchy  with  the  Patriarchs  of 
Antioch  and  Alexandria.(')  To  the  faithful  congregations  of 
the  orthodox  East  the  Latin  pontiff  is  the  Judas  of  the  band 
of  bishops.  He  has  been-  deposed  from  his  high  place ;  he 
is  an  excommunicate  and  accursed ;  the  Patriarch  of  Moscow 
has  assumed  the  vacant  seat  created  by  his  apostasy ;  and  a  bit- 
ter warfare  has  raged  between  the  rival  churches,  in  which 
the  praise  of  humanity  or  mercy  can  least  be  ascribed  to  that 
of  Eome.  Often  the  cruel  Popes  labored  to  bring  bloodshed 
and  disunion  within  the  walls  of  Constantinople,  aimed  the 
assassin's  dagger  at  its  emperors,  encouraged  the  rage  of  the 
crusaders,  or  smiled,  while  they  trembled,  at  its  fall.  In  a 
later  age  the  persecuting  fury  of  the  Church  of  Eome  was 
aimed  against  EuSsia  and  the  Patriarch  of  Moscow.  The 
Poles  were  incited  to  become  the  champions  of  Catholicism. 
For  nearly  a  century  the  most  fertile  fields  of  Eussia  were 
desolated  by  the  fierce  missionaries  of  the  AVest ;  the  monas- 
teries were  sacked,  the  orthodox  bishops  tortured  into  submis- 
sion. Moscow  perished  in  a  memorable  conflagration.  The 
Russian  hierarchy  were  corrupted  or  intimidated.  A  usurper, 
the  tool  of  the  Jesuits,  reigned  in  the  Holy  City ;  and  amidst 
the  scenes  of  national  ruin,  in  which  they  had  so  often  tri- 
umphed, the  Popes  seemed  about  to  extend  their  spiritual  em- 
pire over  regions  that  had  never  felt  their  sway.     But  the 

(')  Mosheim,  i.,  p.  513;  Gieseler,  i.,  p.  503 ;  John  Jejunator  assumes  the 
title  of  Universal  Patriarch,  587 ;  Gregory  the  Great  thiuka  the  title  im- 
pions. 


470  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

Sclavic  nation  rose,  led  by  its  patriotic  priests ;  the  Catliolics 
were  expelled  with  lieroic  courage ;  and  Poland  has  suffered 
in  modern  times  for  the  cruel  policy  of  the  Jesuits  and  the 
guilt  of  its  ancestors. 

The  schism  between  the  Eastern  patriarchs  and  the  Pope  of 
Rome  sprung,  no  doubt,  from  early  differences,  from  opposing 
interests,  and  from  varying  traditions.(')  In  the  first  century 
the  mild  Polycarp,  who  ruled,  by  superior  sanctity,  the  Syrian 
churches,  opposed  Anicetus,  the  presbyter  or  Bishop  of  Pome, 
in  his  own  city,  and  defended  the  usages  of  Ephesus.  Anice- 
tus modestly  yielded,  for  he  was,  perhaps,  a  disciple  of  Paul ;('') 
but  as  the  Roman  See  grew  rich  and  powerful,  it  was  almost 
the  first  of  the  early  churches  to  fall  into  superstitious  decay. 
Its  early  popes,  Zephyrinus,  Callixtus,  Victor,  bear  no  honest 
characters.(')  Its  episcopal  chair  became  the  object  of  in- 
trigue and  corrupt  ambition.  Pride  came  with  moral  decay, 
and  the  fallen  bishops  of  Rome  hoped  to  hide  their  own  spir- 
itual degradation  in  a  fabulous  claim  to  the  succession  from 
St.  Peter.  Conscious  of  their  own  crimes,  they  strove  to  exalt 
the  authority  of  the  office  they  had  won  by  fraud  or  violence, 
and  to  dazzle  the  world  by  vain  assumptions  and  idle  display. 
More  honest,  because  more  intelligent,  the  bishops  of  the  East- 
ern cities  still  preserved  some  traits  of  the  earlier  simplicity. 
The  two  Gregorys,  Basil,  Meletius,  and  Chrysostom  might  do 
credit  to  the  church  of  a  cultivated  age ;  but  the  Popes  were 
grossly  ignorant,  and  the  Latin  See  a  centre  of  moral  decay. 
The  jjen  of  the  ascetic  Jerome  has  left  a  vigorous  sketch  of 
the  growing  vices  of  Rome.  As  the  Latin  prelates  sunk  low- 
er in  barbarous  ignorance,  their  pretensions  rose;  but  the 
Eastern  emperors  treated  them  with  little  ceremony,  exiled  or 
punished  the  Popes  at  will,  and  the  Patriarch  of  Constanti- 
nople declared  himself  the  Universal  Bishop.  With  the  fall 
of  the  chief  centres  of  Christianity  in  the  East  under  the  as- 
saults of  the  Saracens,  the  ambition  of  Rome  revived.      It 


(')  Mosheim,  i.,  p.  513. 

(")  Eusebius,  Ecc.  Hist.,  v.,  p.  24.    Eusebius  calls  kxxxGQins,  presbyter. 

(')  Milmau,  Lat,  Christ. 


FHOTIUS  AND  HIS  AGE.  471 

aimed  to  subject  or  to  destroy  the  Eastern  Churcli,  as  it  had 
already  eradicated  its  rivals  from  Gaul  or  Britain,  persecuted 
the  Church  of  Scotland,  and  was  to  reduce  cultivated  Ireland 
to  a  forlorn  and  bleeding  waste.  Doctrinal  differences  and 
varying  rites  added  lasting  hostility  to  the  war  of  ambition ; 
and  the  Church  of  Rome,  to  the  purer  faith  of  Constantino- 
ple, seemed  lost  in  fatal  heresy.  It  had  added  to  the  Nicene 
Creed,  from  the  decrees  of  a  Sjianish  council,  the  unauthor- 
ized ^7io2'we.(')  It  refused  to  allow  its  clergy  to  marry,  in  di- 
rect revolt  from  the  well-known  decision  of  Nice.  Its  abject 
worship  of  images  and  the  Host,  its  ignorance,  its  dependence 
upon  the  Western  barbarians,  its  pretension  to  a  place  above 
all  the  other  patriarchates  in  honor  and  power,  naturally  ex- 
cited the  disapprobation  and  the  fear  of  its  Eastern  brethren ; 
and  at  length  Antioch  and  Alexandria,  Jerusalem  and  Con- 
stantinople, united  in  deposing  forever  from  his  place  in  the 
Christian  Church  the  heretical  and  ambitious  Bishop  of  Rome., 
The  chief  source  of  this  remarkable  separation,  the  founder 
of  the  independence  of  Eastern  thought,  was  Photius,(^)  Pa- 
triarch of  Constantinople.  Xo  man  of  his  period  could  rival 
his  various  learning  and  his  extensive  acquaintance  with  the 
Greek  classics.  His  vast  and  careful  library,  or  selections 
from  more  than  two  hundred  writers,  passes  over  a  boundless 
field  of  philosophy  and  general  literature,  preserves  the  finest 
passages  of  Herodotus  or  Plutarch,  and  indicates  an  intellect 
avid,  industrious,  and  refined.  Photius,  in  literary  activity, 
was  the  Johnson,  the  Gibbon,  of  his  century.  As  a  layman  he 
had  traveled  to  the  cities  of  the  Arabs,  and  had  been  employed 
in  high  offices  at  the  Byzantine  court.  In  858,  the  Patriarch 
Ignatius  was  deposed  by  the  Eni2:)eror  Michael,  and  Photius 
was  raised  to  the  first  station  in  the  Eastern  Church.  The 
Romish  See,  eager  to  control  the  politics  of  Constantinople,  as- 
sumed the  cause  of  Ignatius,  deposed  or  excomnmnicated  his 
rival,  and  began  its  ceaseless  war  against  a  scholar  and  a  think- 

(')  The  procession  from  the  Father  and  the  Son  first  appears  at  the  Coun- 
cil of  Toledo.  See  Gieseler,  ii.,  p.  73.  Its  adoption  by  Protestant  churches 
was  indiscreet. 

C)  Schnitzler,  L'Erupire  des  Tsars. 


472  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

er  whose  severe  pen  and  vigorous  intellect  were  to  deal  it 
blows  that  were  never  to  lose  their  sting.  In  his  famous  en- 
cyclical, Photius(')  reviewed  the  errors  of  the  Paj)al  See,  and 
held  np  to  the  Christian  Chnrch  the  heresies  and  the  corrup- 
tions of  Rome.  lie  pointed  oiit  its  interjjolated  creed,  its  Jew- 
ish tendency,  its  pascal  lamb  that  was  eaten  by  Pope  and  bish- 
ops, its  celibacy,  and  its  countless  crimes.  His  learning  and 
his  logic  confounded  his  dull  opponents,  nor  was  there  any 
one  of  the  period  who  could  meet  his  unequaled  intellect  in 
the  field  of  controversy.  Yet  the  contest  was  long  and  doubt- 
ful; the  Eastern  patriarchs  sustained  their  brilliant  leader; 
the  West  sided  with  the  Popes.  Photius  was  driven  into  ex- 
ile. Ignatius  ruled  in  St.  Sophia ;  he  died,  and  Photius  was 
again  restored.  Even  the  Pope  was  reconciled  to  his  return ; 
but  a  new  emperor  banished  the  scholar  to  a  lonely  monastery 
in  Armenia,  where,  perhaps,  he  died.  Gleaming  out  an  intel- 
lectual prodigy  in  the  dark  age  of  general  ignorance,  Photius 
has  won  no  low  place  in  the  annals  of  mental  progress.  His 
wide  reading  and  his  acute  discjuisitions  have  not  been  lost  to 
posterity ;  his  bold  and  patriotic  defense  of  the  liberties  of 
the  East  saved  from  contempt  the  decisions  of  Nice,  and  re- 
pelled from  half  the  Christian  world  the  later  abuses  of  Rome. 
It  was  the  theory  of  the  Greeks  that  there  were  five  patri- 
archates equal  in  power  and  authority,  but  that  the  capital 
city  of  the  empire  must  hold  a  titular  precedence  in  rank.  So 
long  as  Rome  remained  the  source  of  government,  it  had  been 
allowed  the  primacy ;  when  it  sunk  into  neglect  and  ruin,  it 
was  supplanted  by  the  superior  dignity  of  Constantinople.^ 
But  the  severe  strictures  of  Photius  had  now  drawn  the  at- 
tention of  the  Eastern  Churches  to  the  false  doctrines  and  the 
rising  ambition  of  Rome.  A  century  of  discord  was  followed 
by  a  final  separation  in  1054.     The  Roman  legates  boldly  af- 

(')  The  Jesuits  (see  Migne,  Pat.  Grace.,  101,  4)  still  rage  against  Photius. 
He  is  "  callidus,  hypoerita,  ambitiosus,  falsarius,  tyrannus,  attameu  ingeuio 
et  ernditiono  non  earuit." 

(')  Mouravieft",  p.  292.  The  Patriarch  Jeremiah,  in  the  midst  of  his  hu- 
miliation and  exile,  called  himself  Universal  Patriarch — of  the  whole  uui- 
yerse ;  but  the  claim  involves  uo  infullibility, 


DECAY  OF  THE  PATRIABCHATES.  473 

fixed  an  excommunication  of  the  Greek  emperor  and  his  ad- 
herents to  the  altar  of  St.  Sophia ;  the  patriarch,  in  rej^lj,  pro- 
nounced an  anathema  against  the  Pope.  Alexandria,  Anti- 
och,  and  Jerusalem  joined  in  the  condemnation  ;  nor  has  Rome 
ever  again  been  admitted  into  the  communion  of  the  early 
churches.  Soon,  under  Ilildebrand,  it  seemed  to  grasp  at 
universal  empire ;  and  the  rude  crusaders  saw,  admired,  and 
finally  plundered  the  sacred  treasures  of  St.  Sophia.  Yet  the 
Greeks  would  never  relent  in  their  hatred  of  Rome.  Within 
their  crumbling  walls,  helpless  before  a  savage  foe,  they  cher- 
ished to  the  last  hour  of  their  freedom  their  devotion  to  the 
faith  of  Photius  or  of  Constantine ;  saw  with  abhorrence  the 
barbarous  practices  of  the  West ;  nor,  even  when  reduced  to 
a  fearful  slavery  under  the  Turk,  would  hold  any  friendly  in- 
tercourse with  the  defamers  of  the  Nicene  Council.(') 

Sadly  indeed  had  the  ISTicene  patriarchates  fallen  from  that 
material  splendor  which  had  made  them  illustrious  in  the 
reign  of  Constantine.  A  few  feeble  and  down -trodden 
Greeks  represented  the  Church  of  Alexandria ;  the  trembling 
Patriarch  of  Jerusalem  was  seldom  safe  at  the  sepulchre  or 
the  cross ;(')  Antioch  had  sunk  into  a  Turkish  town ;(')  the 
Syrian  shore  was  strewed  with  the  wrecks  of  convents  and  ca- 
thedrals. The  madmen  of  the  crusades  had  nearly  completed 
the  destruction  of  the  Eastern  Church  ;  and,  in  the  utter  ruin 
of  the  city  of  Constantine,  the  last  of  the  patriarchs  had  been 
converted  into  a  Turkish  slave.  A  Greek  population,  indeed, 
considerable  in  numbers,  still  gathered  around  desecrated  St. 
Sophia,  or  occupied  the  fertile  fields  of  European  Turkey, 
but  it  was  fast  sinking  into  extreme  ignorance,  and  the  learn- 
ing and  the  genius  that  had  adorned  the  age  of  Photius  or 
Justinian  seemed  forever  passed  away.  From  the  depth  of 
its  abasement  no  human  power  could  extricate  the  fallen 
Church.     Rome  pursued  its  feeble  rivals  of  Constantinople 

(')  Gieseler, ii., p., 227  (note):  "Posuit  Deus  ecclesiam  suara  iu  quinque 
patriarchiis,"  etc. 

(")  William  of  Malmesbury,  iv.,  p.  2  (1099),  says  the  Saracens  permitted 
the  patriarch  to  remain. 

(^)  The  Patriarch  of  Antioch  removed  to  Damascus.    See  Neale. 


474r  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

and  Antiocli  with  menaces  and  dangerous  intrigues ;  it  would 
have  rejoiced  to  sweep  from  the  earth  the  four  patriarchates 
that  had  condemned  its  heresies,  its  follies,  or  its  crimes; 
and,  from  the  time  of  the  dull,  mischievous  Hildebrand,  had 
threatened  an  instant  ruin  to  priests  or  people  who  might  dare 
to  oppose  its  absolute  rule  of  the  earth.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
moment  had  come  for  the  complete  submission  of  all  Chris- 
tendom to  the  usurping  Popes.  The  four  patriarchs  might 
well  fall  down  and  worshij)  their  prosperous  brother,  whom 
they  had  so  boldly  ejected  from  the  apostolic  family,  but  who 
had  now  risen  to  rule  over  all  Western  Europe ;  whose  hands 
were  yet  red  with  the  blood  of  the  Albigenses,  the  Yaudois, 
the  Hussites,  and  the  Lollards ;  whose  symbol  was  death  to 
the  heretic ;  and  who  had  resolved  to  drag  at  his  spiritual  tri- 
umph the  nations  racked  by  the  scourge  and  flame,  kings  ter- 
rified by  interdict  or  excommunication. 

But  there  had  grown  up  meantime  a  new  centre  of  Orient- 
al Christianity,  inaccessible  to  the  persecutions  of  Rome ;  and 
the  seeds  of  progress,  nurtured  amidst  the  hot  landscapes  and 
the  golden  clime  of  Syria  and  the  South,  had  ripened  in  an 
unknown  land,  where  Herodotus  had  traced  the  wandering 
Scythians,  and  the  Greek  dramatist  had  placed  the  scene  of 
his  grandest  fables.  The  Eastern  Church  seemed  transplant- 
ed without  a  change  to  the  boundless  wilderness  of  mediaeval 
E.ussia.(')  Monks  and  anchorites,  more  hardy  and  more  ter- 
rible in  their  asceticism  than  those  who  had  swarmed  around 
Paul  and  Anthony  in  the  Egyptian  deserts,  or  had  founded 
the  sacred  fortresses  of  Mount  Athos,  had  lived  and  prayed 
amidst  the  Russian  steppes,  borne  the  fierce  rigors  of  an  arc- 
tic climate,  and  met  with  joy  the  frozen  horrors  of  the  North- 
ern seas.  Moscow  and  Novgorod  were  belted  with  a  chain  of 
massive  convents,  from  whose  lofty  walls  the  conquering  Tar- 
tars had  been  repelled  with  shame.  The  bare  islands  of  the 
Arctic  Ocean,  where  even  the  hardy  Esquimaux  had  failed  to 

(')  Curzon,  Levant,  p.  340,  etc.,  describes  the  fortress  monasteries  of 
Mount  Athos;  they  are  revived  in  the  Holy  Trinity  of  Moscow.  See 
Lowth,  Kremlin.  For  Solovetsky,  see  Dixon's  pleasant  picture  of  that 
■wonderful  community,  flourishing  in  an  arctic  waste. 


B  USSIAX  J SCETICS.  475 

find  a  habitation,  were  covered  witli  the  rude  huts  of  Russian 
monks.  Nor  have  the  annals  of  asceticism  any  examples  of 
human  endurance  that  can  compare  with  the  self -chosen  pains 
of  Sergius,  or  Savatie,  or  Nikon.  To  their  penance  and  their 
toils  the  labors  of  Benedict  were  light,  the  discipline  of  Loy- 
ola a  life  of  indulgence.  They  fled  to  the  lonely  birch  wood 
or  the  frozen  island.  Hunger ;  solitude ;  the  horrors  of  a  cli- 
mate where  winter  and  night  ruled  for  half  the  year,  the  sum- 
mer burning,  but  not  invigorating,  the  earth ;  the  plague  of  ^ 
countless  stinging  insects,  from  whose  assaults  the  wild  beasts 
fled  in  terror ;  malaria  and  gloom — failed  to  check  their  devo- 
tion or  disturb  their  holy  meditations.  Lives  of  strange  aus- 
terity and  patient  faith  have  rolled  on  unrecorded  in  these 
frightful  retreats.  The  heroism  of  the  squalid  and  savage 
saint  was  often  never  recognized  until  his  emaciated  frame 
was  seen  no  more  among  men ;(')  but  over  his  poor  remains, 
now  more  valued  than  heaps  of  gems,  his  superstitious  coun- 
trymen would  erect  a  magnificent  convent,  and  kings  and 
prelates  bring  their  treasures  to  his  shrine.  Labor  was  always 
the  duty  of  a  Russian  monk ;  sometimes  intense  study  was 
joined  to  his  devotions;  and  minds  fortified  by  abstinence, 
bodies  hardened  to  superhuman  endurance,  natural  capacities 
enlarged  by  rigorous  culture,  have  formed  in  the  convent  or 
the  hermitage  many  of  the  men  who  have  proved  most  useful 
to  the  progress  of  the  Sclavonic  race. 

If  the  monasteries  of  Mount  Atlios  or  Ararat  were  success- 
fully copied  in  the  Lauras  of  Moscow  and  Solovetsky,  not  less 
carefully  were  the  patriarchates  and  bishoprics,  the  rituals 
and  the  cathedrals,  of  Antioch  or  Constantinople  renewed  in 
the  Russian  steppes.  At  Kief,  for  three  centuries  the  centre 
of  Russian  Christendom,  the  bishop  or  metropolitan  was  usu- 
ally borrowed  or  ordained  from  the  court  of  the  Caesars.  At 
Novgorod,  and  afterward  at  Moscow,  arose  a  chain  of  curious 
churches — low,  covered  with  glittering  and  fantastic  domes, 

(')  Sergius,  Basil,  the  wild  hermits  mentioned  by  a  series  of  travelers, 
the  founders  of  Solovetsky :  the  more  recent  hermits  in  Russia  are  more 
Oriental  than  Western  monks,  are  dervishes  or  Brahmin  devotees. 


476  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

and  sliining  within  with  a  rude  imitation  of  St.  Sophia.  At 
Moscow  a  patriarch  was  appointed,(')  with  the  consent  of  the 
four  ancient  patriarchates,  to  take  the  place  of  heretical 
Kome.  A  priesthood,  bearded,  robed,  and  disciplined  in  the 
Greek  model,  formed  his  missionaiy  aid ;  and  the  soft  music, 
the  melodious  ritual,  and  the  classic  processions  and  chants 
that  had  won  the  hearts  of  the  early  Russians  were  swiftly 
scattered  through  the  countless  congregations  that  sprung  up 
in  the  frozen  North.  The  library  of  Photius  and  the  sermons 
of  Chrysostom  became  familiar  to  the  Russian  priest,  at  least 
in  name.  The  manners,  looks,  dress,  and  carriage  of  the  people 
of  Constantinople  were  transferred  to  the  towns  and  cities  of 
Russia.  The  czars  boasted  a  descent  from  the  successors  of 
Constantine,  and  traced  a  lineage  back  to  Philip  and  Alexan- 
der, revived  in  their  families  the  classic  names,  and  ceased  to 
be  altogether  barbarous.  Nor  did  the  four  Eastern  patriarch- 
ates see  without  exultation  the  rise  of  that  vigorous  power 
whose  devotion  to  the  creed  of  Nice  might  prove  a  safe- 
guard against  the  ambition  of  Rome,  and  in  some  distant  hour 
relieve  Antioch,  Alexandria,  Constantinople,  and  Jerusalem 
from  their  bitter  subjection  to  the  Turk.  Not  seldom  the 
oppressed  and  trembling  patriarchs  from  the  South  made 
their  way,  in  poverty  and  contempt,  to  the  Russian  court,  and 
were  received  with  honor,  emoluments,  and  signal  veneration 
by  the  rulers  and  the  people.  Through  many  a  period  of 
danger  the  Russian  patriarchate  has  extended  a  kindly  aid  to 
its  feebler  brethren,  has  protected  the  Greek  population  of 
Turkey,  has  shielded  the  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem  from  the 
malice  of  his  Latin  rival,  and  rescued  the  Holy  Places  from 
the  sole  custody  of  the  Roman  heretic;  and  one,('')  perhaps 
the  ruling,  cause  of  the  Crimean  war  was  the  religious  ques- 
tion of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  and  the  keen  affront  offered  by 
the  unscrupulous  ruler  of  France,  in  the  interest  of  the  pa- 

(')  Mouravieff :  in  1587.  Jeremiah  seems,  at  least,  to  have  heen  no  im- 
postor.    See  Mouravieff' 8  Appeudix,  Dis.  on  Jeremiah. 

(^)  Kiuglake,  Crimean  War :  "  By  causing  a  persistent,  hostile  use  to  be 
made  of  the  fleet,"  vol.  i.,  p.  487.  The  French  emperor  fanned  the  quarrels 
of  the  churches. 


RURIK.  4:77 

pacy  or  of  himself,  to  the  Eastern  Church.  I^or  can  it  be 
doubted  that  the  new  Constantine  who  is  to  rescue  the  ancient 
seats  of  Christianity  from  the  rule  of  Islam  will  come  from 
the  Korth,  and  that  the  five  Eastern  patriarchates,  united  and 
vigorous,  must  once  more  taste  an  uninterrupted  freedom. 

A  fair -haired  Swede  or  Norseman  —  Kurik  —  in  the  year 
862,  when  Alfred  was  about  to  rescue  England  from  Dan- 
ish barbarism,  and  when  the  empire  of  the  great  Charles 
had  dissolved  into  warring  fragments,  entered  Russia  at  the 
invitation  of  its  Sclavonic  tribes,  and  founded  at  Kief  and 
Novgorod  the  central  fabric  of  the  Russian  power.(')  With 
flowing  locks  and  stalwart  forms,  the  hardy  Norsemen  ruled 
with  vigor,  and  brought  comparative  repose  to  the  obedient 
people ;  but  they  were  pagans,  worshiping  gods  formed  from 
huge  logs  of  wood,  grotesquely  carved  and  adorned  with 
gems.(')  They  had  heard  by  report  of  the  wonders  of  civili- 
zation, of  the  splendid  city  to  the  southward  on  the  shores  of 
the  Euxine,  rich  with  the  treasures  of  commerce  and  of  art ; 
and  more  than  once  great  fleets  of  the  avaricious  and  inquisi- 
tive barbarians  had  assailed  the  port  and  the  walls  of  Con- 
stantinople, confident  in  their  own  strength,  and  conscious,  per- 
haps, of  the  cowardice  of  the  Greeks.  Once  the  city  would 
have  fallen  had  not  the  learned  patriarch,  Photius,  worked  a 
miracle  by  touching  the  sea  with  the  holy  garments  of  the 
Virgin.  The  sea  rose  in  a  violent  storm,  and  dashed  in  pieces 
the  frail  vessels  of  the  barbarians.  Later  emperors  were  con- 
tent to  purchase  their  forbearance  by  lavish  gifts.  A  friend- 
ly intercourse  was  established  between  the  Russians  and  the 
Greeks  ;  and  at  length  a  royal  convert,  the  Princess  Olga,  was 
baptized,  with  imposing  ceremonies,  at  Constantinople,  re- 
ceived the  august  name  of  Helena,  the  mother  of  Constantine, 
and  strove  to  win  over  her  countrymen  from  the  worship  of 

(')  Karamsin  gives  from  Nestor,  Nikon,  and  the  annalists  his  clear  and 
interesting  narrative.  See  aoI.  i.,  Sonrces  de  I'Hist.  do  Kiiss.,  Les  Chro- 
niques.  The  name  of  Rurik  waa  common  iu  Franco  (p.  53)  among  its  in- 
vaders. 

C*)  Karamsin,  vol.  i.,  pp.  62,  99,  describes  the  superstition,  the  ignorance 
of  the  Sclaves. 


478  THE   GREEK  CHURCH. 

idols  to  the   Nicene  faith.     She  was  unsuccessful ;  yet  the 
name  of  Olga,  the  first  Christian  princess,  is  venerated  and  pre- 
served in  the  reigning  family  of  the  czars.     Her  grandson,  Vla- 
dimir (988),  founds  the  Russian  Church.     A  rude  and  sim- 
ple savage,  cruel  and  terrible,  his  conversion  to  the  faith  of 
Constantine  is  the  dawn  of  Russian  civilization,  the  chief  event 
in  the  history  of  Eastern  progress.     He  heard,  it  is  said,  the 
arguments  of  the  envoys  of  various  religions.     The  Mussul- 
mans of  the  Yolga  pressed  him  to  believe  in  their  Prophet, 
the  Western  Christians  in  their  Pope,  the  Jew  in  Moses,  the 
Greek  philosophers  in  Attic   culture.     The   ferocious  ruler 
listened,  but  sent  an  embassy  to  Constantinoj)le  to  observe  the 
manners  and  the  faith  of  the  city  of  the  Csesars-^)     Basil,  the 
emperor,  and  his  acute  patriarch  prepared  a  religious  spectacle 
of  rare  magnificence  to  dazzle  and  convert  their  savage  and 
simple  guests.     It  was  a  liigli  festival.     St.  Sophia,  magnifi- 
cent in  gold  and  mosaic,  blazed  with  a  thousand  lights.     The 
Russian  envoys  were  placed  in  a  position  whence,  at  a  single 
glance,  they  might  survey  the  splendors  of  the  noblest  of 
Christian  churches,  and  a  ritual  that  had  been  adorned  by  the 
costly  devices  of  ages.     Accustomed  only  to  the  rude  wor- 
ship of  their  forest  gods,  the  simple  Sclaves  were  converted 
by  a  splendid  show  that  seemed  the  foretaste  of  Asgard  or 
of  Paradise.     The  incense  smoked,  the  chants  resounded,  the 
patriarch,  gleaming  with  gems  and  gold,  entered  the  church  ; 
but  when  the  long  procession  of  acolytes  and  deacons,  bearing 
torches  in  their  hands,  and  with  white  wings  on  their  shoul- 
ders, passed  out  of  the  sanctuary,  and  all  the  people  fell  on 
their  knees,  shouting  "  Kyrie  Eleison  !"  the  Russians,  supposing 
the  white-winged  children  to  be  angels,  took  their  guides  by 
the  hand  and  expressed  their  wonder  and  their  awe.     "  Do  you 
not  know,"  said  the  acute  Greeks,  "  that  the  angels  are  sent 
down  from  heaven  to  join  in  our  services?"     "We  are  con- 
vinced !"  cried  the  Russians.     "  Let  us  return  home."     The 


(')  Photins  claimed  the  conversion  of  the  Enssians.  The  Eussians  assert 
that  St.  Andrew  visited  Kiof;  bnt  the  influence  of  saint  or  bishop  was  fee- 
ble.    See  Schuitzler,  L'Empire  des  Tsars,  iii.,  p.  485. 


VLADIMIR  CONVERTED.  479 

pious  or  the  impious  fraud,  and  the  matchless  pageant  of  St. 
Sophia,  had  converted  a  nation  ;  nor  could  the  dull  Justinian, 
when  he  labored  to  perfect  his  favorite  shrine,  have  conceived, 
amidst  all  his  exultation,  that  the  magnificent  dome  and  the 
silver  altar,  the  gleaming  lights  and  graceful  ritual,  of  his  ca- 
thedral would  allure  half  the  world  to  the  faith  of  Nice. 

Yladimir  received  the  account  of  his  envoys  with  some  hes- 
itation. He  besieged  the  city  of  Kherson,  in  the  Crimea,  and 
vowed  that,  should  he  succeed  in  taking  it,  he  would  be  bap- 
tized. The  city  yielded,  torn  and  bleeding,  to  its  savage  foe ; 
but  still  the  slow  convert  hesitated.  He  sent  an  embassy  to 
the  Emperor  Basil,  demanding  his  sister  in  marriage.  He 
promised,  on  that  condition,  to  become  a  Christian.  He  threat- 
ened that,  if  he  were  refused,  he  would  lay  Constantinople  as 
low  as  Kherson.  Anne,  sister  of  Basil,  nurtured  in  the  luxu- 
ry of  a  Byzantine  palace,  was  the  victim  led  forth  to  grace  the 
rude  lodge  of  the  Sclavonic  prince.(')  Her  sister  already  sat 
upon  the  German  throne.  Anne,  most  effective  of  mission- 
aries, bore  Christianity  to  the  wild  tribes  of  the  frozen  North, 
and  with  more  fortitude  or  resignation,  perhaps,  than  a  Xavier 
or  a  Boniface,  gave  her  hand  to  her  ferocious  suitor,  and  saved 
her  country  and  her  faith.  Vladimir  was  baptized.  He  con- 
verted the  Russians  by  no  inconclusive  arguments.  He  or- 
dered the  whole  population  of  Kief,  his  capital,  to  be  im- 
mersed in  the  swelling  river,  while  the  priests  read  prayers 
upon  the  banks.  The  huge  log  of  wood,  Peroun,  which  had 
for  generations  been  the  object  of  adoration  to  the  savage 
Russians,  was  dragged  at  the  horse's  tail  over  mount  and  vale, 
was  scourged  by  twelve  mounted  lictors,(°)  and  thrown  into 
the  Dnieper ;  and  Vladimir  the  Great,  the  near  connection  of 
the  Christian  emperors  of  Germany  and  of  Constantinople,  in 
the  close  of  the  tenth  century,  strove  to  reform  Russia,  and 
perhaps  himself.  It  was  that  mournful  epoch,  the  year  1000, 
when  all  Catholic  Europe,  plunged  in  ignorance  and  general 

C)  Schnitzler,  iii.,  p.  489. 

C)  Karamsin,  i.,  p.  109,  describes  the  god  Peroun,  "  Dicu  de  la  fondre — de 
bois,  avec  nne  tete  d'arfiPiit  ct  des  moustaches  d'or."  Yet  Perouu  might 
compare  favorably  with  a  Bambino  or  a  piece  of  the  true  cross. 


480  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

woe,  was  watching  for  the  last  hour  of  existence,  when  it  was 
believed  that  the  heavens  must  soon  melt  in  a  general  confla- 
gration, and  tlie  earth  perish  in  seas  of  fire.  A  wave  of  relig- 
ious excitement  passed  over  Germany  and  France ;  pilgrims 
flocked  in  unusual  numbers  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre ;  the  altars 
were  tlironged  with  ceaseless  worshipers  ;  and  Russia,  sharing 
in  the  general  revival,  seems  to  have  gladly  welcomed  the 
Greek  missionaries.  Churches  were  built  at  Kief  in  imitation 
of  St.  Sophia ;  Byzantine  bishops  ruled  in  the  royal  city ; 
and  the  docile,  placable,  imaginative  Sclaves  began  to  adopt 
the  manners  of  Constantinople,  and  share  the  virtues  and  vices 
of  the  Greeks. 

From  the  year  1000 — no  ominous  period  to  Eastern  civili- 
zation(') — Russia  begins  its  career  as  a  Christian  nation ;  was 
the  spiritual  oifsjDring  of  the  Byzantine  Church ;  received  its 
ordination  from  St.  Sophia,  its  bishops  from  the  schools  of 
Constantinople  ;  obtained  an  alphabet  formed  from  the  Greek, 
read  the  Scriptures  in  the  Sclavonic  tongue  ;  was  transformed 
from  utter  barbarism  to  a  softer  culture,  and  learned  the  worth 
of  education.  Five  centuries  pass  on  over  the  varying  fort- 
unes of  the  Russian  Church ;  the  descendants  of  Rurik  and 
of  Vladimir  still  rule  over  the  Sclavonic  race ;  the  feeble  rays 
of  Constantinopolitan  civilization  extend  themselves  more  and 
more  over  the  savage  tribes.  But  the  wide  disasters  that  have 
fallen  upon  Eastern  Christianity  seem  once  more  to  threaten 
its  extinction.  For  two  centuries  the  vast  hordes  of  Tartars, 
from  Genghis-Khan  to  Tamerlane,  desolated  the  fairest  fields 
of  Russia,  and  reduced  almost  to  a  savage  wilderness  the  land  , 
that  had  seemed  about  to  surpass  Western  Europe  in  civil  and 
religious  progress.  A  few  huge  and  battlemented  monasteries 
defied  the  rage  of  the  invaders,  and  alone  kept  alive  the  faith 
and  the  liberty  of  the  Sclaves.  In  the  midst  of  their  humil- 
iation, the  Bishops  of  Moscow  and  Kief  beheld  the  sudden 
fall  of  the  Holy  City  whence  had  come  their  earliest  inspira- 


(')  In  this  year  Gerbevt  was  Pope,  and  Enrope  lost  in  ignorance.  The 
Pope  seemed  a  sorcerer;  the  nobles  and  the  kings  could  seldom  read  or 
write. 


IVAN  THE  TERRIBLE.  481 

tion.  Constantinople  sunk  before  the  arms  of  Moliammed.(') 
St.  Sophia  was  desecrated  by  an  alien  worship.  A  common 
ruin  had  ingulfed  the  five  great  Eastern  patriarchates.  Mean- 
time their  ambitious  rival  in  the  West  had  fixed  its  suprem- 
acy over  all  the  Euroj)ean  powers,  and  was  already  exciting 
Catholic  Poland  to  crush  the  last  elements  of  Russian  free- 
dom, to  enforce  the  heresies  of  Rome  upon  Moscow  or  Nov- 
gorod.(') 

In  the  sixteenth  century,  torn  by  generations  of  discord  and 
of  hostile  ravages,  Russia  began  once  more  to  rise  into  greatness. 
From  1533  to  1584,  Ivan  the  Terrible,  a  barbarian  more  cruel 
and  more  frightful  in  his  rage  than  his  ancestors  Rurik  and 
Yladimir,  ruled  with  success  over  the  reviving  nation,  and  in 
his  moments  of  sanity  renewed  the  sources  of  Russian  civiliza- 
tion. He  introduced  the  printing  -  press,  opened  a  commerce 
with  England,  advanced  the  progress  of  the  Church.  The 
contemporary  of  Henry  YIII.  and  Edward  VI.,  of  Elizabeth 
— whose  hand  he  is  said  to  have  demanded — of  Charles  V. 
and  Francis  L,  the  name  of  Russia  was  now  again  familiar  to 
Western  Europe,  sullied  by  the  horrible  renown  of  Ivan, 
who  was  reported  to  have  surpassed  the  crimes  and  cruelties 
of  all  the  tyrants  of  the  past.  His  early  rule  had  been  mark- 
ed by  piety  and  generous  patriotism ;  for  thirteen  years  he 
seemed  a  Christian  hero,  destined  to  adorn  his  age  by  generous 
deeds.  Then  a  cloud  passed  over  his  intellect ;  he  sunk  into 
gross  vice  and  loathsome  cruelty ;  his  nobles,  his  courtiers,  and 
his  people  perished  wherever  he  came  ;  he  blotted  whole  towns 
from  existence ;  he  covered  the  land  with  bloodshed.  It  was 
his  amusement  to  see  hale  and  lusty  monks  torn  to  pieces  by 
wild  beasts,  to  inspect  his  innocent  victims  as  they  writhed  in 
fearful  tortures.     Yet  was  his  zeal  for  religion  so  ardent  that 

(')  Von  Hammer,  Ges.  Osmaii.  R.,  i.,  p.  549,  describes  with  vigor  the  fate 
of  St.  Sophia  and  its  worshipers. 

(^)  Hildebrand,  among  his  wide  pretensions,  claimed  Russia  as  belonging 
to  Rome.  In  their  extravagant  folly  the  Popes  fancied  that  the  earth 
belonged  to  them  as  the  vicegerents  of  Christ,  and  proceeded  to  exercise 
their  authority.  The  notion  has  been  revived  and  fixed  by  the  recent 
council.     The  Popes  gave  Ireland  to  the  English,  and  America  to  Spain. 

31 


482  THE  GBEEE  CHURCH. 

he  often  retired  to  a  monastery  for  pious  meditation,  rang  the 
matin  bell  himself  at  three  in  the  morning,  and  passed  whole 
days  in  prayer.  Monster,  fanatic,  to  whose  crimes  Henry 
VIII.  might  seem  merciful,  or  Charles  Y.  benevolent,  Ivan  the 
Terrible  ruled  over  his  submissive  people  with  a  sway  perfect 
in  its  despotism.  His  people  revered  him  with  a  strange  in- 
fatuation ;  the  assassin's  dagger  was  never  raised  against  him ; 
and  he  died  in  old  age,  after  a  long  and  prosperous  reign,  and 
was  laid  in  the  crypts  of  the  Kremlin. 

Moscow,  on  the  banks  of  the  beautiful  Moskwa,  the  Holy 
City  of  the  Kussians,  was  now  become  the  capital  of  an  em- 
pire vigorous  and  united;  nor  has  any  metropolis  ever  so 
fixed  the  affections  and  the  reverence  of  a  whole  people,  or 
become  so  perfectly  the  hallowed  shrine  of  a  national  faith. 
Not  Ephesus  was  as  dear  to  the  languid  Syrian,  nor  Constan- 
tinople to  the  Greek.(')  Holy  Moscow,  belted  with  convents, 
crowned  with  the  rich  spiritual  and  material  splendors  of  the 
Kremlin,  w^ith  the  tombs  of  the  czars  and  the  bones  of  the 
saints,  has  become  to  the  fanciful  and  ardent  Russian  a  spot 
consecrated  in  the  annals  of  religion  and  of  his  country.  Pil- 
grims in  yearly  inundations  have  flocked  to  it  from  all  the  bor- 
ders of  a  land  where  pilgrimages  are  yet  a  sacred  duty ;  the  czar 
and  the  serf,  the  Siberian  and  the  Cossack,  meet  in  the  Church 
of  the  Assumption,  or  lay  their  various  offerings  in  the  treas- 
ury of  the  monks  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  The  traveler  who  pass- 
es swiftly  between  the  endless  forests  of  the  level  country  sees, 
as  he  draws  near  and  stands  on  the  neighboring  hills,  a  rich 
and  wonderful  city,  crowned  with  a  glittering  circle  of  cupo- 
las, blue,  red,  green,  or  gold,  and  teeming  everywhere  with  the 
emblems  of  the  Nicene  faith.  One  strange  building  near  the 
Kremlin  is  the  wildest  that  fancy  ever  conceived.     Basil,  a 

(')  "Our  men  say,"  writes  Richard  Chancellor,  "that  in  bigness  it" 
(Moscow)  "  is  as  great  as  the  City  of  London,  with  the  snbnrbs  thereof." 
He  notices  the  nine  churches  of  the  Kremlin  ;  the  majesty  of  Ivan  the 
Terrible,  his  jewels,  gold,  his  diadem,  and  his  courtiers  clad  in  cloth  of 
gold;  the  beauty  of  Moscow,  the  wooden  houses  of  the  Russians,  their 
Greek  faith.  He  went  to  Russia  in  1553.  He  describes  their  long  fasts, 
their  service  in  tlicLr  own  tongue,  their  leavened  bread  at  the  communion. 


THE  EBEMLIN.  483 

hermit,  naked  and  bound  with  an  iron  chain,  winter  or  sum- 
mer, wandered  through  the  streets  of  Moscow.  He  alone 
dared  to  rebuke  the  old  emperor,  Ivan  the  Terrible,  for  his 
fearful  crimes ;  and  when  the  hermit  died,  Ivan  resolved  to 
build  a  cathedral  over  the  tomb  of  the  saint.  It  was  one 
madman  doing  honor  to  another ;  and  day  after  day  the  aged 
tyrant  sat  in  his  tower  on  the  Kremlin  watching  the  strange 
building  rise  like  an  exhalation ;  the  pagodas,  cupolas,  stair- 
cases, pinnacles,  blend  in  wild  confusion,  and  his  own  mad 
dreams  shape  themselves  in  stone.  Justinian  had  built  on  in 
dull  imbecility ;  Ivan  in  furious  lunacy.  At  length  the  mad- 
dest of  architectural  designs  was  finished,  and  the  emperor 
put  out  the  eyes  of  his  architect  lest  he  might  build  another 
cathedral  as  surpassingly  fair  as  his  own.(') 

In  the  Kremlin  centres  the  swelHng  tide  of  Russian  faith ; 
in  the  Cathedral  of  Michael  the  Archangel  lie  ranged  around 
the  walls  the  long  succession  of  the  buried  czars  until  near 
the  period  of  Peter  the  Great ;  in  the  chapel  or  church  of  the 
Repose  of  the  Yirgin,  from  Ivan  the  Terrible,  the  czars  have 
been  crowned ;  in  its  tower  the  Russian  primates  were  elect- 
ed. It  is  crowded  with  pictures  hallowed  by  entrancing  asso- 
ciations to  the  imaginative  people,  and  rich  with  relics  dear  to 
the  Russian  and  the  Greek,  Within  the  I^j'emlin  a  glitter  of 
enchantment  seems  to  hang  over  the  path  of  the  visitor ;  the 
ground  he  treads  is  the  holiest  upon  earth  to  countless  pil- 
grims ;  on  every  side  he  sees  the  peasant  casting  himself  on 
the  bare  stones ;  the  priests  employed  in  ceaseless  adoration ; 
palaces  splendid  with  the  decorations  of  ages,  and  gay  church- 
es stored  with  gems  and  gold,  before  whose  priceless  treasures 
even  the  wealth  of  St.  Sophia  and  of  Constantinople  might 
seem  only  tolerable  indigence ;('')  nor  anywhere  has  the  gor- 

(')  Schnitzler,  La  Russie,  La  Pologne,  etc.,  p.  63.  It  resembles  "  ces  con- 
cretions (le  stalactites  oil  la  nature  imite  I'art."  Lowtli,  Kremlin,  has  some 
clear  pictures.  Spottiswoodo  thinks  Moscow  more  beautiful  in  winter, 
covered  with  snow,  than  in  summer,  p.  245. 

C)  Dicey,  A  Month  in  Russia,  1866,  gives  a  lively  picture  of  Moscow. 
"  The  wealth  of  Russia,"  he  says,  "  would  not  suffice  to  buy  the  treasures 
of  the  cathedral  church  at  Moscow,"  p.  108. 


484  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

geous  taste  for  glittering  baubles  and  wasteful  pomp,  tlie  lega- 
cy of  the  Byzantine  court,  been  so  carefully  appKed  as  within 
the  grotesque  battlements  of  the  Kremlin  Hill.  It  resembles 
one  of  the  robber  caves  of  the  Arabian  legend,  where  the 
spoil  of  generations  of  plunderers  was  heaped  up  in  masses  of 
uncounted  wealth.  Moscow  spreads  broad  and  prosperous 
around  its  ancient  fortress,  the  Constantinople  of  the  North. 
Sixty  miles  from  the  Holy  City,  in  the  midst  of  the  wild  and 
endless  forest,  sprung  up  in  the  year  1338  the  Monastery  of 
the  Holy  Trinity.  When  the  Black  Death  was  desolating  the 
human  race,  and  the  vices  of  men  seemed  about  to  bring  their 
own  extirpation,  the  solemn  refuge  of  meditative  souls  grew 
into  a  vast  assemblage  of  buildings ;  its  huge  and  lofty  walls, 
its  wide  circuit  of  churches  and  convents,  its  swarm  of  brave 
as  well  as  pious  monks,  defied  the  rage  of  the  Tartar  hordes ; 
and  from  the  battlements  of  the  Holy  Trinity  saints  and  an- 
chorites, bishops  and  deacons,  summoned  their  countrymen  to 
the  holy  wars  against  pagan  Cossack  or  Catholic  Pole.(')  Her- 
mits more  than  once  have  saved  Russia.  Sergius,  the  Tell, 
the  Wallace  of  his  country,  was  a  wild  anchorite,  hiding  in 
impenetrable  forests.^ )  At  the  battle  of  the  Don  (1380)  his 
prayers  and  the  valor  of  his  monks,  clothed  in  steel,  broke  the 
power  of  the  Tartars.  From  the  moat  and  the  towers  of  the 
Holy  Trinity  the  Catholic  Poles  (1613)  were  beaten  back  in  a 
wild  confusion  of  fighting  monks  and  raging  demons;  nor, 
had  the  convent  of  Sergius  fallen — the  last  retreat  of  Russian 
freedom — would  the  Pope  and  the  Jesuits  ever  have  released 
from  their  grasp  the  sinking  fabric  of  the  Russian  Church. 

The  sacred  city  became,  in  1587,  the  seat  of  the  fifth  patri- 
archate, and  assumed,  in  the  opinion  of  the  East,  the  place 
made  vacant  by  the  fall  of  the  Roman  See.  Jeremiah,  a 
wandering  patriarch  from  Constantinoj)le,  consecrated  his 
brother  Job  of  Moscow ;  the  Kremlin  resounded  with  thanks- 

(')  Sohnitzler,  La  Russie,  etc.,  p.  97  :  "  Le  mouastfere  fut  un  refuge  pour 
les  vrais  enfans  de  la  patrie,  et  ses  tresors  soldSrent  les  d^feuseurs,"  etc. 

('■')  Sergius  is  called  the  father  of  Russian  mouasticisra.  Mouravieff, 
p.  63.  He  preferred  to  die,  as  he  had  lived,  in  poverty,  and  refused  the  re- 
wards offered  him  for  saving  his  country. 


BOEIS  GODUXOFF.  485 

giving ;  the  happy  czar  loaded  the  Greek  prelate  with  gener- 
ous gifts ;  Antioch,  Alexandria,  and  Jerusalem  welcomed  the 
new  representative  of  the  uSTicene  hierarchy ;  Eussia  was  fill- 
ed with  holy  joy,  and  the  Patriarch  of  Moscow  ruled  over 
the  Sclavonic  Churcli.(')  Yet  never  were  the  Eastern  patri- 
archates nearer  their  destruction ;  and  Eussia  was  now  to  pre- 
pare for  that  final  struggle  with  the  Pope,  the  Jesuits,  and  the 
Poles,  from  which  she  arose,  at  length,  wounded  and  bleed- 
ing, to  a  new  career.  In  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
Theodore,  the  last  of  the  descendants  of  Eurik,  sat  on  the 
throne  of  the  czars.  His  mildness,  his  weakness,  and  his  su- 
perstition had  left  him  little  real  authority.  The  bold,  aspir- 
ing, unscrupulous  Boris  Godunoff  ruled  in  the  name  of  his 
master.  Already  Boris  had  stained  his  conscience  with  a 
fearful  crime,  and  had  procured  the  assassination  of  Prince 
Demetrius,  the  half-brother  of  Theodore,  and  the  only  heir  to 
the  crown.  Demetrius  was  eight  years  old  when  his  mer- 
ciless enemy  removed  him  from  his  path.  When  the  pious 
Theodore  died,  childless,  Boris  Godunoff,  who  had  so  long 
ruled  the  nation,  was  chosen  czar  of  all  the  Eussias  in  his 
place.  Moscow  rang  with  festivities.(')  The  Patriarch  Job 
was  the  devoted  friend  of  Boris ;  nor,  in  the  moment  of  his 
coronation  and  his  triumph,  could  the  usurper  have  ever 
dreamed  that  the  shade  of  his  victim,  the  holy  child  Demetri- 
us, the  last  of  the  race  of  Eurik,  would  fall  ominously  across 
his  upward  way. 

Eaised  from  a  private  station  to  an  imperial  crown,  Boris 
resolved  to  marry  his  two  children  among  the  royal  fami- 
lies of  Europe.  His  son,  Theodore,  the  heir  of  the  Eussian 
throne,  was  destined,  he  thought,  to  win  a  princess.  His 
daughter,  Xenia,  fair,  graceful,  with  thick  black  hair  and 
sparkling  eyes,Q  he  betrothed  to  Prince  John  of  Denmark. 

(')  Mouravieff. 

O  Karamsiu,  xi.,  pp.  50,  54.  Boris  begins  to  reiga  1598;  Moscow  re- 
joices. 

O  "  Boris  cherchant  pour  sa  fiUe  un  dponx  digne  d'elle,  panni  les  princes 
Europ^ens  de  sang  royal,"  p.  54,  In  the  year  1600  Boris  was  full  of  hope, 
p.  123. 


486  TEE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

All  was  made  ready  for  the  wedding.  The  fair  bride  had 
seen  her  husband  at  a  distance,  when  suddenly  Prince  John 
was  seized  with  a  mortal  sickness,  and  died  in  the  midst  of 
the  gayeties  of  Moscow.  Yet  still  Boris  Godunoff,  in  the 
year  1600,  was  at  the  height  of  his  prosperity.  His  authority 
was  undisputed;  his  pious  zeal  conspicuous;  he  lived  with 
his  family  in  the  palace  of  the  czars,  and  fought  with  suc- 
cess at  the  head  of  his  armies.  One  danger  alone  seemed  to 
threaten  him :  the  Jesuits  ruled  at  the  court  of  Sigismund  of 
Poland,  and,  with  that  peculiar  union  of  logic  and  of  violence 
which  has  marked  so  many  of  their  assaults  upon  nations, 
were  winning  over  the  Russian  bishops  to  an  alliance  with 
Eome,  or  urging  the  Poles  to  invade  the  heretical  empire. 
But  what  they  most  desired  was  to  awaken  civil  discord 
among  the  Russians,  to  divide  the  Church  and  the  nation,  and 
to  launch  the  immense  force  of  Poland,  then  in  its  mature 
strength,  against  the  walls  of  Moscow.(') 

Nor  was  it  long  before  the  opportunity  they  had  looked  for 
came.  A  sudden  check  marred  the  career  of  the  prosperous 
Boris.  He  grew  suspicious  and  tjTannical  almost  in  a  mo- 
ment :  the  memory  of  Demetrius,  his  innocent  victim,  the  in- 
trigues of  the  Jesuits,  and  the  reproaches  of  his  people,  may 
have  conspired  to  change  him  to  a  cruel  tjTant.  He  im- 
prisoned or  put  to  death  the  noblest  Russians,  and  no  house 
suffered  more  deeply  than  that  of  Romanoff,  the  founder  of 
the  present  hue  of  czars.  To  add  to  his  dangers,  a  wet  sum- 
mer brought  famine  over  Russia ;  a  pestilence  followed ;('') 
robbery  and  murders  filled  all  the  realm ;  and  brigands  wan- 
dered through  the  streets  of  Moscow.     The  keen  Jesuits— 


(')  Karamsin,  xi.,  p.  170,  attributes  tho  success  of  Demetrius  to  the 
Jesuits  and  the  papal  influence.  And  MouraviefF  describes  the  mischiev- 
ous labors  of  the  Jesuit  Possevin,  tho  spread  of  Romish  influence  from 
Poland  among  the  Russian  bishops,  the  defection  of  many,  the  progress  of 
the  Unia,  or  the  party  advocating  submission  to  Rome.  That  the  vrar  of 
the  pretender  was  a  religious  one  —  an  assault  of  Rome  upon  the  Greek 
Church — no  one  wiU  deny.  Of  its  cruel  results  to  Russia  and  to  Poland 
all  later  history  is  fuU. 

C)  Karamsiu,  xi.,  pp.  131, 132. 


THE  FALSE  DEMETRIUS.  487 

such,  at  least,  is  the  Russian  narrative — now  resolved  to  dis- 
tract the  suffering  realm  by  a  civil  war,  to  destroy  the  lib- 
erties of  the  Eussian  Church,  and  plant  the  papal  banner  in 
the  heart  of  the  Kremlin.(')  There  was  a  monk  named  Greg- 
ory Otriepieff,  whose  character  was  vicious,  but  who  was 
quick  and  subtle;  he  had  been  a  favorite  of  the  Patriarch 
Job,  and  had  seen  much  of  the  royal  family.  One  day  he  ex- 
claimed, to  the  wonder  of  his  fellow-monks, "  I  shall  yet  be 
Czar  at  Moscow."  He  wandered  from  convent  to  convent ; 
he  fled  to  Poland,  and  there,  at  the  house  of  a  wealthy  noble, 
pretended  sicknesss ;  he  sent  for  a  confessor  who  was  a  Jes- 
uit, and  revealed  his  secret.  He  was,  he  said,  the  Prince  De- 
metrius, who  was  supposed  to  have  been  murdered  by  Boris 
Godunoff,  but  who  had  escaped  by  a  friendly  exchange. 

The  secret  was  revealed  by  the  incautious  father.  Sigis- 
mund.  King  of  Poland,  was  induced  to  patronize  the  impos- 
tor ;  the  papal  nuncio  at  "Warsaw  and  the  Pope,  Clement 
VIIL,  joined  in  the  project,  and  Demetrius,  or  Gregory,  was 
acknowledged  as  the  lawful  monarch  of  all  the  Russias.  He 
was  privately  reconciled  to  the  Romish  Church  by  the  Jesuit 
fathers,  and  pledged  himself  to  restore  his  empire,  should  he 
regain  it,  to  the  papal  faith.  Gregory  was  of  middle  size, 
graceful,  his  eyes  blue,  his  hair  auburn  or  red ;  one  of  his  legs 
was  shorter  than  the  other;  he  had  several  marks  upon  his 
person  that  it  was  claimed  proved  him  to  have  been  the  true 
Demetrius.^)  His  intellect  was  cpiick  and  cultivated,  his  air 
noble  and  pleasing,  his  disposition  generous,  and  his  tempera- 
ment sanguine.     He  had  won  the  affections  of  Marina,  the 


(')  Mouravieff,  p.  147.  Karamsin,xi.,  p.  160,  calls  the  pretender  "  le  fils 
d'un  pauvre  geutilliommo  de  Galitcbe  iu)mm<5  Jouri  Otriepiefl"."  Stliuitzler, 
L'Empire  des  Tsars,  p.  508,  gives  a  clear  and  brief  account  of  the  Unia. 

(')  The  question  of  the  identity  of  Gregory  with  Demetrius  is  sometimes 
revived.  In  the  last  century  Professor  Miiller  is  said  to  have  argued 
against  it,  yet  doubted.  See  Coxo,  Russia,  App.  It  was  noticed  that  the 
great  nobles  went  out  to  meet  him ;  that  his  mother  received  him  ;  that 
she  never  openly  disowned  him,  etc.  But  the  Patriarch  Job,  who  could 
best  detect  the  imposture,  was  his  steady  opponent.  Karamsiu  and  Mou- 
ravieflf  do  not  doubt. 


488  TEE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

ambitious  and  haughty  daughter  of  the  Voivode  of  Sendomir, 
whom  he  had  promised  to  place  on  the  throne  of  Moscow,  and 
lier  father's  wealth  aided  in  providing  the  forces  with  which 
he  first  invaded  Russia.  Never,  indeed,  was  there  a  less  promis- 
ing undertaking.  To  enter  a  powerful  empire,  to  assail  a  vigor- 
ous and  active  prince,  to  defy  a  church  endeared  to  the  whole 
nation,  and  plan  the  conversion  by  force  of  a  hostile  realm, 
was  a  project  so  extravagant  as  could  only  be  equaled  in  the 
annals  of  fanaticism  or  of  madness.  Twice  the  undisciplined 
forces  led  by  Gregory  and  the  Jesuits  were  defeated.  The 
Russian  Church  excommunicated  him ;  Boris  seemed  firmly 
seated  on  his  throne ;  Moscow,  in  the  midst  of  the  national 
calamities,  shone  with  festivity ;  and  scarcely  did  it  seem  that 
Gregory  and  Marina  would  ever  occupy  the  palace  of  the 
Kremlin,  or  papal  priests  defile  the  altars  of  the  Annuncia- 
tion. 

It  is  impossible  to  unravel  the  dark  intrigues  of  this  singu- 
lar story,  yet  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  his  power,  Boris  died, 
and  the  emissaries  of  Demetrius  appear  in  the  heart  of  the 
capital.  His  proclamations  were  in  every  hand.  The  great 
nobles  assumed  his  cause,  the  people  rose  in  his  favor.  The 
young  czar,  Theodore,  with  his  mother,  was  dragged  from  the 
splendors  of  the  Kremlin  to  perish  by  a  horrible  death ;  and 
soon,  amidst  a  great  throng  of  princes  and  boyars,  Demetrius 
entered  the  capital,  accompanied  by  his  Jesuit  advisers,  and 
was  hailed  by  his  countrymen  as  the  last  of  the  house  of  Ru- 
rik.  One  touching  scene  was  arranged  to  strike  the  attention 
of  the  multitude.  The  mother  of  the  murdered  Demetrius 
was  still  alive,  hidden  in  a  convent,  and  known  only  as  the 
nun  Martha.  She  was  brought  forth,  by  what  influences  can 
never  be  known,  to  acknowledge  Gregory  as  her  son.  They 
met  before  all  the  people.(')  They  embraced  with  a  profu- 
sion of  tears.  The  impostor  led  his  pretended  mother  into  a 
tent  near  at  hand,  and  there,  after  so  many  years  of  sepa- 
ration, they  indulged  in  a  tender  interview ;   it  was  told  in 

(')  Karamsin,  xi.,  p.  191.     Mouravieff,  p.  151,  says  that  the  Martha  testi- 
fied silently  to  his  person. 


MARINA.  489 

Moscow,  that  the  czarina  at  once  knew  and  rejoiced  over  lier 
long-lost  son. 

Marina,  the  proud  Pole,  with  a  throng  of  her  countrymen, 
hastened  to  the  capital  to  share  in  the  triumph  of  her  hus- 
band, and  amidst  a  wild  scene  of  revelry  and  strange  rejoi- 
cing(')  Gregory  and  his  wife  were  crowned  in  the  Kremlin. 
The  impostor  sat  on  a  throne  of  gold ;  Marina,  at  his  side,  on 
one  of  silver;  their  splendor  mocked  the  miseries  of  their 
country.  Moscow  seemed  now  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
Poles  and  the  Romanists;  the  papal  priests  desecrated  the 
churches  of  the  Kremlin ;  the  Jesuits  pressed  their  scheme  of 
reducing  the  Russian  bishops  to  a  submission  to  Rome ;  the 
impostor  scoffed  at  the  usages  of  the  National  Church,  and 
filled  the  high  offices  of  the  court  with  foreigners.  A  deep 
discontent  sprung  up  through  all  the  unhappy  realm;  the 
horrors  of  a  foreign  tyranny,  the  rule  of  the  hated  Jesuits  and 
Poles,  the  dissolute  morals  of  the  new  czar,  who  wasted  his 
life  in  light  amusements  or  fatal  indulgence,  roused  the  dis- 
gust of  the  clergy  and  the  people,  and  from  the  walls  of  the 
convent  of  the  Holy  Trinity  the  Eastern  Church  still  defied 
the  arts  of  Rome.  The  imposture  of  Gregory  was  every- 
where proclaimed.  A  new  insurrection  was  planned.  One 
night  the  tocsin  sounded  over  the  cupolas  of  Moscow ;  the  in- 
surgents hastened  to  the  palace,  and  Gregory,  flying  in  terror 
from  room  to  room,  at  last  threw  himself  from  a  window,  and 
fell,  maimed  and  bleeding,  on  the  pavement  below.  He  was 
put  to  death.  Marina,  the  Poles,  and  the  Jesuits  were  suffer- 
ed to  escape,  and  a  new  czar  was  chosen,  whose  reign  soon 
closed  in  general  anarchy.  All  Russia  was  weighed  down  by 
rebelHon,  discord,  famine,  and  boundless  woe ;  the  ties  of  so- 
ciety were  torn  asunder ;  the  flames  of  blazing  villages,  the 
strife  of  rival  factions,  the  desolation  of  the  Russian  Church, 
marked  the  final  fall  of  the  dynasty  of  Rurik. 

Touched  neither  by  remorse  nor  compassion  at  the  spec- 
tacle of  the  frightful  woes  they  had  aided  so  largely  in  bring- 
ing upon  the  miserable  Russians,  the  Jesuits  and  the  Poles,  re- 


(')  Mouravieff,  p.  151. 


490  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

joicing  at  tlie  opportunity,  resolved  to  win  by  violence  what 
tliey  had  vainly  attempted  by  fraud,  and,  through  new  seas  of 
bloodshed  and  devastation,  to  destroy  forever  the  stronghold 
of  the  Nicene  faith.  Rome  succeeded  for  a  moment  in  fixing 
its  deadly  fangs  in  the  heart  of  the  sister  Church.  Poland  is 
supposed  to  have  attained  under  Sigismund  III.  the  height  of 
its  martial  and  intellectual  glory ;  its  men  of  letters  are  reck- 
oned in  long  lists  of  doubtful  excellence,  and  Warsaw  shone 
with  the  faint  radiance  of  a  dawning  civilization.(')  Its  hu- 
manity, however,  does  not  seem  to  have  been  conspicuous. 
Sigismund  made  war  upon  perishing  Russia.  With  a  fine 
army  of  thirty  thousand  men  he  crossed  the  border,  took 
Smolensk,  reduced  Livonia,  and  appeared  before  the  walls  of 
Moscow.  The  capital  yielded,  and  the  hated  standards  of  the 
Poles,  the  heretical  emblems  of  Romish  supremacy,  ruled  over 
the  gay  cupolas  of  the  Kremlin.  So  low  had  the  great  empire 
fallen,  that  a  son  of  the  Polish  king  was  elected  Czar  of  all 
the  Russias,  and  Moscow,  the  Holy  City  of  Eastern  Christen- 
dom, had  almost  sunk  into  an  appanage  of  hated  Rome.  Yet 
still  from  the  brick  walls  and  tall  towers  of  the  Holy  Trinity,^) 
now  become  the  last  stronghold  of  the  Eastern  faith,  while 
the  Swedes  ravaged  Russia  in  the  north,  and  the  Poles  held 
its  fairest  provinces,  a  brave  monk  proclaimed  a  deathless  re- 
sistance to  the  invaders.  The  vast  wealth  of  the  famous  mon- 
astery was  applied  to  no  useless  aim.  The  Swedes  for  sixteen 
months  besieged  in  vain  the  holy  fortress,  and  at  length  Mos- 
cow was  set  on  fire,  and  all  excej)t  the  blackened  Kremlin  was 
leveled  with  the  ground.  The  Poles  and  the  Jesuits  fled 
from  the  wild  rage  of  Russian  monks  and  a  superstitious  peo- 
ple. The  first  of  the  Romanoffs  was  placed  on  the  throne, 
and,  with  shame  and  horror,  Russia  threw  off  the  yoke  of  the 
fallen  Pope,  which  had  for  a  moment  defiled  the  Holy  City  of 
the  East, 

(')  Hist,  de  la  Pologne,  Chev6:  "Sigismund  (^tait  attacb6  aiix  J^suites. 
II  voyait  avec  plaisir  quelle  ardeur  ils  ddployaieut  pour  la  conversion  des 
li^rdtiques,"  etc.,  ii.,  pp.  77,  87.  Chev6  reckons  up  a  list  of  more  than  a  thou- 
sand eminent  Poles. 

C')  Mouravieff,  p.  1G5. 


THE  ROMANOFFS.  491 

The  son  of  a  bishop,  the  representative  of  a  mercantile 
family,  whose  plain  house  is  still  preserved  by  their  imperial 
descendants  at  Moscow,  Michael  Romanoff  became  Czar  of 
Russia.  His  father,  the  Patriarch  Philaret,  a  person  of  learn- 
ing and  of  virtue,  guided  his  councils.  The  country  and  its 
Church  slowly  recovered  from  the  dangerous  wounds  they  had 
received  from  the  Jesuits  and  the  Poles,  yet  the  wide  prov- 
inces torn  from  Russia  by  Sigismund,  the  humiliating  peace 
with  Poland  (1613),  the  ravages  of  the  Swedes,  had  checked 
its  progress  or  blighted  its  prosperity.  The  young  czar  was 
forced  to  give  up  to  Sigismund  new  territories,  to  be  added  to 
the  spiritual  empire  of  the  Pope.  It  is  related  of  this  period 
that  Russia,  apparently  shut  out  forever  from  European  con- 
quests,(^)  began  to  spread  its  authority  over  the  icy  wastes  of 
Siberia.  Yet,  as  the  son  of  a  priest  had  restored  the  peace  of 
his  country,  a  wild,  huge,  stern,  impulsive  hermit  renewed  the 
vigor  of  its  Government  and  reformed  its  Church.  Savage 
and  scholar,  priest  or  executioner,  the  brutal  Kikon  ruled  over 
the  court  and  the  monasteries  of  Russia  with  signal  power, 
and  the  rites  and  the  culture  of  Russian  Christianity  have  re- 
ceived their  final  molding  from  his  rude  yet  original  hand. 

Of  all  the  eminent  names  of  the  seventeenth  century,  that 
of  Nikon  is  least  kno^vn  to  the  West,  yet  most  honored  in  the 
East.(*)  The  gigantic  reformer  was  seven  feet  in  stature,  his 
frame  stalwart  and  vigorous,  his  complexion  ruddy,  his  eyes 
blood-shot,  his  countenance  severe  and  terrible.  He  was  born 
a  peasant ;  his  huge  frame  was  inured  in  childhood  to  hard- 
ship and  labor ;  in  his  youth  he  met  with  a  copy  of  the  Script- 
ures, and,  seized  with  that  strong  religious  impulse  so  common 
to  his  country,  he  fled  secretly  from  his  father's  house  to  hide 
himself  in  the  .recesses  of  a  convent.  Remorse,  contrition, 
hope,  despair,  such  as  a  Bunyan  or  a  Baxter  may  have  felt  or 
described,  had  probably  seized  upon  the  iron  nature  of  the  huge 
Sclave  and  driven  him  to  silent  meditation  or  secret  prayer. 

(')'Mouravieff,  p.  181.     From  this  period  begins  the  spread  of  Russia  to- 
ward the  East.  • 
C)  Mouravieff,  p.  193  ;  Stanley. 


4:92  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

His  father,  however,  succeeded  in  recalling  him  from  his  con- 
vent to  a  more  useful  life.  He  was  married,  and  became  a 
village  priest,  and  for  ten  years  Nikon  seems  to  have  perform- 
ed with  regularity  his  modest  duties.  But  of  all  passions, 
that  for  a  monastic  seclusion,  an  asceticism  founded  upon  the 
model  of  Paul  or  Anthony,  seems  to  be  the  most  powerful 
to  the  Russian  mind ;  the  unhappy,  the  destructive,  and  the 
degrading  taste  for  a  monkish  solitude  or  a  hermit's  cell,  the 
mental  disease  of  Thibet  or  of  the  Middle  Ages,  ruled,  and 
still  rules,  in  Russia  with  unabated  power.  Nor  could  Nikon 
ever  restrain  the  promptings  of  his  powerful  but  disordered 
intellect,  and  in  every  moment  of  disappointment  or  chagrin 
he  pined  for  the  soothing  privations  of  a  stone  pillow  or  an 
eremite's  cave.  After  ten  years  of  labor  as  a  village  priest,  he 
persuaded  his  wife  to  enter  a  convent,  and  went  himself  (he 
believed  at  the  call  of  Heaven)  into  the  wildest  abodes  of  as- 
ceticism. At  Solovetsky,  amidst  the  fierce  waves  of  the  Arc- 
tic Sea,  in  the  depth  of  unvarying  winter  for  two-thirds  of  the 
year,  the  gigantic  recluse  complained  of  the  luxury  of  his 
abode,  pressed  on  into  a  sterner  retreat ;  and  on  a  lonely  island 
of  the  Onega,  swept  by  wild  winds,  corroded  by  frost,  torn  by 
stinging  insects,  and  fed  or  starved  on  the  dole  of  pilgrims  or 
the  coarse  food  of  a  peasant,  the  Russian  reformer  macerated 
his  powerful  frame,  poured  forth  his  litanies,  and  lived  for 
many  years,  it  is  said,  content.(') 

Alexis,  the  fair  and  amiable,  sat  on  the  Russian  throne,  and 
the  annals  of  human  friendships  have  few  more  curious  rec- 
ords than  that  of  the  close  and  intense  intimacy  that  grew  up 
between  the  wild  hermit  of  the  White  Sea  islands  and  the 
despot  of  the  Russian  realm.  Nikon  was  drawn  reluctantly, 
with  pain  and  dim  foreboding,  upon  some  convent  business, 
from  his  forest  cell  to  Moscow.  He  met  Alexis,  and  won  a 
control  over  his  gentle  intellect  that  seems  to  have  contrib- 
uted little  to  the  happiness  of  either.  The  czar  forced  Nikon 
to  leave  his  island  to  rule  in  his  councils  and  guide  the  Rus- 
sian Church,     He  became  bishop,  patriarch.     For  six  years 

(')  Mouravieff,  p.  195. 


NIEOX.  493 

Nikon  ruled  Russia,  nor  was  Alexis  often  absent  from  his 
side.  In  the  magnificent  robes  of  his  ancient  ritual,  Xikon  is 
seen  on  many  a  canvas  or  panel  in  his  favorite  churches,  his 
huge  form,  his  fierce  countenance,  indicating  that  powerful 
hand  with  which  he  purged  the  convents  or  assailed  the  Poles. 
Intellectually  Nikon  seems  to  have  been  scarcely  less  remark- 
able than  in  his  physical  nature.  His  mind,  purified  by  ab- 
stinence and  enlarged  by  silent  thought,  had,  by  some  process 
little  conceivable,  become  stored  with  learning  in  his  forest 
home,  and  toiled  upon  .literary  labors  that  might  have  em- 
ployed the  whole  leisure  of  feebler  intellects.  His  eloquence, 
his  voice — the  cry  of  a  giant — subdued  his  impassioned  audi- 
ences ;  but  it  is  as  the  reformer  of  the  National  Church  that 
he  is  either  adored  or  loathed  by  his  countrymen.  For  six 
years  he  toiled  to  purify  and  elevate  the  rites,  the  liturgy,  and 
the  manners  of  his  barbarous  clergy.(')  He  was  sincere,  with 
a  depth  of  truthfulness  that  Knox  or  Luther  would  have  ad- 
mitted ;  he  was  passionate,  sensitive,  imperious,  tyrannical,  and 
cruel  almost  as  a  Dominic  or  a  Loyola.  His  janizaries  roamed 
through  Moscow,  and  when  they  had  found  an  erring  monk 
intoxicated,  he  was  scourged  and  sent  to  prison.  Nikon,  it 
was  said,  never  forgave.  He  exposed  the  metropolitan  of 
Mira  to  be  eaten  alive  by  cannibals  for  smoking  tobacco ;  he 
left  three  deacons,  who  had  married  twice,  to  die  in  chains ;(') 
the  prisons  were  filled  with  the  clergy ;  Siberia  was  peopled 
by  the  unworthy  ministers  of  the  Church ;  and,  with  no  un- 
characteristic cruelty,  in  the  land  of  Ivan  the  Terrible  or  Pe- 
ter the  Great,  Nikon  enforced  a  Puritanic  or  a  monkisli  aus- 
terity in  every  convent  and  every  parish. 

To  his  vast,  ill-ordered,  yet  fanciful  intellect,  so  imperfectly 
fed  with  appropriate  aliment,  and  eager  for  some  advance  in 
knowledge,  there  rose  up  the  splendid  pageant  of  that  early 
church  which  had  shone  in  fresh  magnificence  under  Constan- 
tine,  or  adorned  St.  Sophia  in  the  jdIous  reign  of  Justinian ; 


(')  Mouravieff;  Stanley,  p.  360  ;  Macarius,  ii.,  p.  227. 
C)  They  were  released  at  the  request  of  Macarius  of  Alexandria.     Mac, 
ii.,  p.  364. 


494  TEE  GREEK  CHUECH. 

and  Nikon  resolved,  by  a  wide  reform — an  Oriental  progress 
— to  soften  the  barbarism  of  his  uncultivated  clergy,  and  re- 
vive in  Moscow  and  Novgorod  the  ancient  graces  of  the  East- 
ern rites.  He  sent  to  Mount  Athos  to  gather  from  its  pious 
fortresses,  untouched  by  the  infidel,  the  purest  and  most  taste- 
ful of  services,  the  true  mode  of  giving  the  benediction  with 
three  fingers  instead  of  two,  the  fairest  altar-cloths,  and  the 
most  authentic  pictures.  The  most  extravagant  of  modern 
ritualists  would  have  been  satisfied  with  the  care  bestowed 
by  the  barbarous  patriarch  upon  robes  and  vestments,  music 
and  genuflections.  His  printing-press  at  Moscow  poured 
forth  his  new  ritual ;  he  corrected  the  Eussian  Scriptures,  and 
improved  the  Sclavonic  literature.  His  gigantic  intellect,  so 
keen  in  its  perception  of  minute  faults,  was  engaged  in  end- 
less labors.  He  generously  fed  the  poor,  founded  hospitals 
and  convents,  and  built  a  magnificent  patriarchal  palace  on 
the  Kremlin ;  was  insensible  to  mortal  dangers,  and  ruled 
Kussia  with  awful  severity.  Alexis,  with  bare  head,  listened 
with  fixed  interest  to  the  stern  eloquence  of  his  friend,  stood 
uncovered  before  him  at  the  cathedral,  and  gave  him  the  prec- 
edence in  spiritual  rank  ;  and  -Nikon,  with  the  zeal,  if  not  the 
intelligence,  of  a  Luther  or  a  Calvin,  conscious  that  he  was 
pursuing  a  perilous  career,  pressed  on  the  work  of  reform. 

Around  him  gathered  the  clouds  of  ruin:  the  nobles  re- 
solved to  destroy  the  fierce  and  impassive  monk,  who  had 
risen  from  a  peasant's  hut  to  rule  all  Russia ;  the  priests  re- 
fused to  alter  one  word  of  that  venerable  service  that  had  sat- 
isfied the  tastes  of  their  simple  fathers.  At  last — most  fatal 
omen  for  Nikon  —  a  coldness  grew  up  between  him  and  his 
friend  ;  the  fierce,  impulsive,  sensitive  monk  was  wounded  by 
the  neglect  of  the  czar,  and,  in  the  anguish  of  disappointment, 
of  lost  affection,  and  fading  hoj^e,  once  more  recalled  the  first 
vision  of  his  youth,  the  peaceful  habitation  of  his  manhood, 
and  sighed  for  his  hermit's  cell.(') 

Fearful  of  approaching  evil,  wounded  by  the  cruelty  of 
Alexis,  who  refused  to  see  him,  for  the  last  time  clothed  in 

C)  Moi;ravieff;  Stanley. 


NIKON'S  FALL.  495 

tlie  magnificent  robes  of  the  Greek  service,  the  patriarch  cele- 
brated the  holy  office  in  the  cathedral  of  Moscow,  and  then, 
elate  with  indignation,  tore  off  his  costly  insignia,  laid  down 
his  patriarchal  staff,  and  with  his  mighty  voice,  that  echoed 
through  the  crowded  building,  declared  that  he  was  no  more 
the  head  of  the  Eussian  Church.(')  Amidst  the  tears  and  the 
terror  of  the  faithful  people,  who  strove  by  various  arts  to 
confine  him  in  the  cathedral,  to  imprison  him  in  their  arms, 
Nikon  left  the  splendid  patriarchal  palace  and  his  royal  cir- 
cle to  hide  in  rage  and  gloom  amidst  the  solitude  of  a  forest. 
Not  very  far  from  the  Holy  City,  in  a  pleasant  wood,  he  had 
planned  a  monastery  and  a  cathedral  in  imitation  of  that 
which  enshrines  the  Holy  Sepulchre ;  and  in  its  chancel  rose 
five  lofty  seats,  to  enthrone  the  five  eminent  patriarchs,  of 
whom  he  was  at  one  moment  the  most  powerful.  But,  in  his 
disgrace,  he  took  refuge  in  a  tower  behind  the  convent.  His 
cell  was  so  narrow  as  scarcely  to  admit  his  gigantic  form. 
His  bed  was  a  ledge  of  stone.  His  dress,  no  longer  glittering 
with  the  insignia  of  office,  was  coarse  and  rude ;  he  labored 
among  the  workmen,  no  unskillful  mason,  in  completing  his 
convent ;  he  wi*ote  in  his  cell  his  annals  of  Ilussia.(^)  Yet 
humility  was  never  a  virtue  of  the  savage  anchorite ;  he  still 
heaped  curses  upon  his  enemies,  and  once  he  stole  from  his 
retreat  to  Moscow,  hoping  to  revive  the  lost  friendship  of 
Alexis.  He  was  repulsed.  His  enemies  pursued  him  to  his 
retreat ;  and  on  a  solemn  day,  in  the  patriarchal  palace,  assem- 
bled a  remarkable  synod  of  Eastern  bishops  to  try  and  depose 
Nikon  for  contumacy  and  fancied  crimes.  Alexis,  like  Con- 
stantine  at  Nice,  presided  in  the  council,  and  wept  incessantly 
over  the  sorrows  of  his  former  friend.  Yet  the  feeble  ruler 
did  not  venture  to  save  him.(^)  He  was  condemned,  degraded 
from  his  office,  and  in  the  dead  of  winter,  when  the  fierce  frost 
ruled  over  the  Russian  steppes,  was  hurried,  thinly  clad  and 

(')  1658,  the  close  of  his  six  years'  rnle.     Mouravicff,  p.  263. 

(^)  Monravieff,  p.  223.  Nikon,  says  the  historian,  was  morbid,  gloomy, 
quick  to  take  an  affront. 

(')  Mouravicff,  p.  227.  His  six  years'  rule  vras  the  most  brilliant  period 
of  the  reigu  of  Alexis. 


496  THE  GREEK  CHURCH. 

torn  witli  wild  emotions,  a  prisoner  to  a  lonely  convent  on 
the  White  Sea.  Many  years  passed  on ;  Nikon  was  forgot- 
ten ;  Alexis  died ;  his  successor  permitted  the  prisoner  to  be 
removed  to  the  more  genial  clime  of  his  favorite  convent  of 
the  ]S'ew  Jerusalem ;  and  touched  by  a  mortal  illness,  bowed 
down  by  old  age  and  shame,  the  monk  set  out  on  his  last  jour- 
ney. His  huge  form  was  carried  on  a  sledge  to  the  Volga ; 
he  floated  on  a  barge  down  the  rapid  river ;  the  monks  and 
the  peasants  thronged  around  him  to  kiss  his  hands  or  his 
garments;  and  as  he  a]3proached  the  well-known  shore  he 
had  only  strength  to  receive  the  last  rites  of  religion,  to  cross 
his  hands  upon  his  breast,  and  with  one  great*  sigh  left  the 
world  in  peace. 

Nikon  renewed  the  Russian  Church.  He  was  no  Luther, 
teaching  progress ;  nor  a  Wesley,  breaking  down  the  priestly 
caste ;  nor  a  savage  Dominic,  founding  an  Inquisition :  the 
vices  or  the  virtues  of  Western  reformers  he  never  shared. 
But  he  brought  into  the  national  service  the  sweet  music  of 
Greece,  the  rich  dress,  the  rare  pictures  of  Mount  Athos ;  he 
improved  the  ritual ;  he  revived  the  memories  of  Constanti- 
nople and  St.  Sopliia.(')  He  roused  his  barbarous  countrymen 
to  a  fresh  study  of  their  own  annals,  brought  to  the  minds  of 
monks  and  priests  the  picture  of  the  great  patriarchates  of 
the  East,  lost  in  poverty  and  humiliation,  and  pointed  them  to 
their  brethren  of  the  South.  But  Nikon's  reforms  produced 
a  great  schism  in  the  National  Church.  A  large  body  of  the 
people  refused  to  accept  his  new  books,  looked  with  horror 
upon  his  innovations,  and  clung  to  the  usages  of  their  fathers. 
They  are  known  as  the  Starovers,  or  Old  Believers.  They  ab- 
hor the  name  and  memory  of  Nikon(')  the  Reformer.  He  is 
the  false  prophet  of  the  Apocalypse,  and  all  his  followers  are 
Antichrist,  and  lost.  No  Starover  will  eat  from  the  same  dish 
with  a  Nikonian,  or  bathe  in  the  same  water.  The  Old  Be- 
liever never  smokes  tobacco,  will  eat  no  potatoes — ^the  devil's 


(')  MouraviefF;  Stanley. 

(^)  Kohl.    Dixou  and  the  travelers  give  various  notices  of  the  Eussiau 
sects ;  but  little  unity  seems  to  exist  in  the  faith  of  the  people. 


PETER   THE   GREAT.  491 

food — or  worship  the  pictures  of  recent  artists.  He  clings  to 
the  past  with  barbarous  obstinacy,  and  many  millions  of  these 
austere  conservatives,  frowned  upon  by  rulers  and  scorned  by 
priests,  still  inhabit  the  southern  provinces,  and  even  have 
their  churches  at  Moscow. 

A  resral  Nikon,  Peter  the  Great,  is  the  next  reformer  of  the 
Kussian  Church.  He  broke  down  the  power  of  the  great 
monasteries,  deprived  them  of  their  revenues,  reduced  them  to 
weakness ;  he  changed  the  constitution  of  the  Church,  and  in 
the  place  of  a  single  patriarch  ruling  at  Moscow,  placed  the 
control  of  all  ecclesiastical  affairs  in  a  Holy  Synod. (')  There 
is  no  longer  a  patriarch  of  Moscow.  The  Holy  Synod  or 
Council  takes  the  place  of  the  earlier  prelate,  and  has  been  ad- 
mitted by  Antioch,  Alexandria,  Jerusalem,  and  Constantinople 
to  an  equality  with  the  patriarchal  office.  The  huge,  stern, 
cruel  Peter,  hated  by  every  Old  Believer  as  the  Antichrist 
and  the  Nikon  of  his  age,  crushed  with  rigorous  hand  the 
power  of  the  clergy,  and  sanctioned  the  music,  the  robes,  the 
improved  books,  the  endless  rites,  suggested  by  the  reforming 
monk.  The  modern  Eussian  Church  is  the  church  of  Nikon, 
and  the  wild  hermit  of  the  arctic  forest  has  left  the  trace  of 
his  original  hand  upon  the  Christianity  of  the  East.  Yet  the 
Greek  Church  still  repeats  the  magnificence  and  the  stately 
ceremonies  of  St.  Sophia.  There  are  no  images ;  but  countless 
pictures  of  saints  and  deities  crowd  the  walls  of  the  Kremlin 
or  of  St.  Isaac's ;  and  at  Moscow  the  picture  of  the  Iberian 
Mother  visits  its  patients»in  state,  like  the  Bambino  at  Ilome.(') 
In  every  house,  in  every  room,  there  is  a  picture  with  a  candle 
burning  before  it,  and  no  faithful  churchman  passes  it  without 
a  bow.  In  the  cathedral  no  organ  or  clashing  band  startles 
the  pillared  nave  with  wild  bursts  of  labored  harmony ;  but 

(')  A  laborious  but  wearisome  effort,  by  the  Rev.  C.  Tondini,  to  allure  the 
Greek  Church  back  to  the  arms  of  Roman  infallibility,  objects  that  the 
patriarchs  have  no  temporal  power  ;  but  it  is  probable  that  they  will  pre- 
fer spiritual  to  temporal  progress.  See  his  Assault  on  the  Patriarchates, 
p.  165  :  a  feeble  argument. 

(')  Lowth,  Around  the  Kremlin,  has  a  lively  description  of  the  deep  de- 
votion shown  by  all  classes  to  the  Iberian  Mother. 

32 


498  THE   GREEK   CHUECH. 

a  clioir  of  singers,  trained  to  tlie  highest  excellence,  breathe 
forth  the  ancient  melodies  of  Greece ;  or  some  Russian  basso, 
it  is  said  the  most  powerful  of  human  voices,  shouts  forth  the 
anathemas  against  the  heretics,  and  terrifies  his  hearers  with 
musical  indignation.  The  traditions  of  a  simpler  ritual  still 
linger,  and  sometimes  a  rude,  ill-cultivated,  but  zealous  layman 
reads,  in  faltering  accents,  from  the  clerical  desk  the  story  of 
the  Passion,  the  scene  in  Getlisemane.(') 

Tlie  taste  for  a  monkish  life,  which  has  received  fatal 
wounds  in  Western  Europe,  still  rules  in  modern  Russia. 
The  convents  swarm  in  countless  numbers  from  the  Black 
Sea  to  the  Arctic.  It  is  a  common  conclusion  for  a  mer- 
chant's or  a  banker's  career  to  build  a  hermitage  and  lay  the 
foundations  of  a  monastery.  The  black  clergy,  as  they  are 
called — a  host  of  hermits,  friars,  monks,  ascetics — live  in  ab- 
stracted ignorance,  and  withdraw  from  society  the  faculties 
and  the  intellects  that  should  be  given  to  the  common  bene- 
fit ;  and  the  principle  of  selfish  isolation  is  illustrated  in  the 
Russian  convent  with  a  general  prevalence  unknown  to  mod- 
ern times.  Paul  and  Anthony,  the  two  Egyptian  fanatics,  are 
still  the  guides  of  millions,  and  Russia  teems  with  anchorites 
and  wild  ascetics.  Far  out  on  the  frozen  waters  of  the  White 
Sea,  on  a  cluster  of  islands  to  whose  clime  lona  might  seem  a 
balmy  haven  of  summer  rest,  stands  Solovetsky,  the  most  pros- 
perous, the  chief,  perhaps,  of  modern  monasteries.(°)  In  the 
dawn  of  the  fifteenth  century  St.  Savatie  penetrated  to  the 
lonely  scene,  where  even  the  hardy  Lapps  refused  to  dwell, 
carved  a  rude  cross  from  a  fallen  pine,  and  made  his  hermit- 
age on  the  icy  shores  of  Solovetsky.  The  island  has  become 
a  city  of  meditative  souls.  A  huge  fortress  encircles  its  chief 
convents.  White  churches,  crowned  by  green  cupolas  and 
golden  crosses,  shine  upon  it^  hills.  In  the  bright,  short  sum- 
mer, when  the  clear  Arctic  Sea  sweeps  gently  around  the  holy 

(')  Kr)bl,  p.  166,  hears  a  scarred  soldier  read  iu  a  church  on  Easter-eve 
with  tonching  effect. 

C^)  Dixon's  animated  account  of  Solovetsky  (see  Free  Russia)  abounds 
iu  interesting  i)articnlar3,  of  which  I  have  been  enabled  to  notice  only  a 
few. 


SOLOVETSKY.  499 

island,  throngs  of  pilgrims  wander  to  the  shrine  of  St.  Savatie, 
bathe  in  the  sacred  lake,  and  taste  the  consecrated  bread.  No 
woman  is  permitted  to  dwell  on  the  hallowed  soil.  For  the 
brief  period  of  summer  she  may  come,  for  a  single  day,  under 
careful  restraints,  to  win  the  benefits  of  the  arctic  pilgrimage  ; 
but  no  sooner  does  the  first  snow  whiten  the  poor  herbage  of 
the  island  than  the  privilege  ceases.  Then  not  even  the  Em- 
press of  all  the  Russias  would  be  suffered  to  intrude  within 
the  abode  of  celibacy.  The  monks  of  Solovetsky  are  indus- 
trious ;  their  workshops  produce  a  variety  of  useful  articles ; 
neatness,  good  order,  and  precise  devotion  mark  the  singular 
community ;  its  churches  gleam  with  rich  ornaments,  and  are 
stored  with  the  gifts  of  the  pious ;  and,  locked  in  the  impene- 
trable security  of  a  frozen  sea,  the  followers  of  Anthony  and 
Savatie  dream  out  their  dull  and  useless  lives,  defy  the  rigors 
of  an  arctic  clime,  and  chant  the  litanies  of  Chrysostoni  or 
Basil. 

Such  is  an  imperfect  sketch  of  that  imperishable  Church 
that  grew  up  on  the  rich  shores  of  Syria,  under  the  genial 
guidance  of  the  Beloved  Apostle,  and  has  fixed  its  firm  foun- 
dations in  the  heart  of  the  most  progressive  of  modern  empires. 
It  may  be  hoped  that  the  genial  influence  of  an  enlightened 
reform  may  pass  over  its  faithful  but  uncultivated  followers ; 
that  its  superstitions  may  be  softened,  its  lingering  traits  of 
harshness  be  removed ;  that  its  humanity,  which  has  been  so 
lately  proved  in  the  liberation  of  millions  of  serfs,  may  lead 
it  to  a  general  toleration ;  that  its  cumbrous  ritual  may  be 
restored  to  the  simplicity  of  a  Scriptural  age ;  that  Antioch 
and  Alexandria,  Jerusalem,  Constantinople,  and  Moscow,  may 
share  the  advancing  tide  of  progress,(^)  and  renew  the  moral 

Q)  Dixon,  p.  79.  The  monks  excel  in  bread-making,  are  tanners,  weavers, 
etc.  The  convents  resound  with  the  hum  of  labor.  They  have  proved 
that  successful  industry  repels  the  influence  of  climate. 

{^)  The  East  will  probably  owe  its  new  progress  to  the  vigor  of  the  ex- 
communicated Photius,  yet  the  fury  of  the  Popes  against  the  founder  of 
the  Eastern  Church  is  beyond  expression.  Hadriau  II.  assails  him :  "  Pho- 
tic invasori,  Photio  sieculari  et  forensi,  Pliotio  neophyto  et  tyranno,  Pliotio 
schismatico  et  damuato,  Photio  mceche  et  parricido." — 2Iif/m;  Gnvc.  Pat., 


500  THE  GEEEK  CHURCH. 

vigor,  the  clear  common-sense,  the  love  for  man,  the  bound- 
less self-devotion,  of  the  fishermen  of  Galilee. 

It  would  seem  not  unnatural  that  Asia  should  draw  its  hu- 
manity and  its  education  from  the  Church  of  Ephesus  and  the 
East :  on  the  Syrian  shore,  philosophy  and  religion  may  revive 
together ;  and  if  the  Russian  czars  shall  make  knowledge  the 
foundation  of  their  new  progress,  they  will  at  least  carry  some 
of  the  best  fruits  of  Greek  civilization  to  the  banks  of  the 
Oxus  and  the  Amoor. 


101,  p.  11.  Nor  is  there  any  one  so  execrated  by  the  fanatics  as  the  accom- 
plished scholar  of  the  ninth  century — the  intellectual  parent  of  the  empire 
of  the  czars. 


INDEX. 


A. 

Ablabius,  165. 
Achilli,  404. 
Adrian  IV.,  419. 

his  bull,  438. 
Agelius,  165. 
Agnes  of  Meran,  43. 
Agrippa  11.,  319. 
Albi,  364. 

Albigenses,  363,  364. 
Alexander  III.,  his  bull,  439. 
Alexis,  Czar,  493. 
Alpine  Church,  165. 
Angrogna,  Valley  of,  212,  238. 
Anna  Van  der  Hove,  132. 
Anne,  sister  of  the  Emperor  Basil,  479. 
Antichrist,  211. 
Antonia,  Castle  of,  307. 
Aragon,  401. 
Arian  controversy,  19. 
Ariosto,  72. 
Arius,  151,  152,  458. 
Armagh,  Cathedral  of,  452. 

University,  453. 
Arnaud,  Henry,  199,  235. 
Athanasius,  152,  458,  460. 
Athens,  Church  of,  336. 
Athesis,  188. 
Auto-da-fe^  382. 


B. 


Babylon,  118. 
Balloon,  the  first,  395. 


Balsllle,  the,  233. 

Balthazar  Gerard,  130. 

Barbes,  the,  201,  211. 

Bards,  Irish,  424. 

Barnabas,  330. 

Basil  the  Great,  159. 

Basle,  Council  of,  183. 

Bastile,  367. 

Bells  consecrated,  441. 

Bible,  255,  256. 

Bishops  of  Rome,  9,  15,  23. 

Bishops,  pride  of,  21. 

Bobadilla,  109. 

Bohemia,  178. 

Borgias,  the,  52,  54. 

Boris  Goduuoff,  485,  486,  488. 

Bossuet,  283,  285. 

Bostaquet,  Dumont  de,  287,  289. 

Brehon  laws,  441. 

C. 

C^SAREA,  339. 

Galas,  Jean,  294. 
Calvin,  210,  260. 
Campion,  128. 
Caraffa,  113. 

Cardinal  Inquisitors,  113. 
Cashel,  Council  of,  435. 
Castelfranco,  Lord  of,  286. 
Castelluzo,  cave  of,  225. 
Catacombs,  the,  14,  16. 
Cathari,  the,  155, 165,  173. 
Catherine  de'  Medici,  262. 


502 


INDEX. 


Catherine  de'  Medici,  her  character,  263. 

policy,  270. 
Catinat,  236. 
Caumont,  Baron  de,  291. 
Celts  emigrate,  451. 
Cervantes,  101. 
Chalcedon,  116. 
Charlemagne,  32,  173. 
Charles  Albert,  242. 
Charles  Emanuel,  214. 
Charles  V.,  91,  189. 
Charles  IX.,  270. 
Chatelet,  dungeons  of,  261. 
Children,  Crusade  of,  174. 
Christians,  dispersed,  323. 

flight  of,  354. 

new,  in  Spain,  369. 
Church  of  Jerusalem,  300,  318. 
Clement  VII.,  253. 
Coligny,  271. 
College  of  France,  249. 
Colporteurs,  258. 
Columba,  415,  416,  454. 
Cong,  Monastery  of,  441. 
Conquest  of  Ireland,  409. 
Conscience,  liberty  of,  240. 
Constance,  Council  of,  175. 

its  proceedings  and  decrees,  177. 
Constantine  the  Great,  17. 

establishes  Christianity,  145. 

at  Nice,  148. 

his  faults,  149. 

remorse,  149. 

opens  the  synod,  152. 

an  Arian,  153. 

persecutes  Athanasius,  154. 
Constantinople,  458. 

its  treasures,  459. 

an  Arian  city,  460. 

saves  Europe,  468, 

falls,  480. 

creed  of,  160. 
Convents,  172. 
Cordova,  402. 
Council,  Apostolic,  331. 
Council  of  Trent,  189. 

its  influence,  187. 


Council  of  Trent  meets,  188. 

dissolves,  193. 
Council,  the  second,  155. 
Councils,  the  third  and  fourth,  162. 

the  fifth,  168. 

the  sixth,  169. 
Crispus,  149. 
Cromwell  defends  the  Vaudois,  223. 

cruelty  in  Ireland,  450. 
Crusade  against  the  Albigenses,  49. 
Cyril  of  Alexandria,  162. 

assails  Nestorius,  163. 

in  danger,  166. 
Cyril  of  Jerusalem,  159. 


D'Albret,  Jeanne,  267,  271. 

Damasus,  Pope,  20,  161. 

Dark  Ages,  170. 

D'Azeglio,  242. 

De  Broglie,  155. 

De  Laval,  Charlotte,  269. 

De  Lunz,  PhiHppa,  261. 

De  Parat,  236. 

De  Pareilles,  235. 

Del  Monte,  188. 

Demetrius,  the  false,  487. 

Descartes,  292. 

"Desert,  Church   in  the,"   in  France, 

293. 
Deza,  second  Inquisitor,  374. 

his  victims,  374. 
Diana  de  Poitiers,  262. 
Diet  of  Worms,  91. 
Diocletian,  17. 
Dioscorus,  167. 
Dolet,  258. 
Dominic,  50. 

his  miracles,  358. 

Inquisition,  359. 

severity,  361. 

and  the  Inquisition,  358. 
Don  Carlo  t'i  Sesso,  386. 
Donald,  King  of  Ulster,  444. 
Dragonnades,  286, 
Du  Ferier,  190. 


INDEX. 


503 


Dublin  besieged,  429,  4ol. 
Dungeons  of  Inquisition,  378. 


E. 

EcK,  88. 

Eisenach,  93. 
Elizabeth,  Queen,  447. 
England,  danger  of,  39Y. 
Ephesus,  166. 

its  appearance,  332. 
Eugenius  IV.,  184. 
Europe,  in  first  century,  300. 
Eusebius  of  Csesarea,  148. 
Eutyches,  166. 
Eymeric,  code  of,  376. 

F. 

Famine  in  Judea,  230. 

Farel,  250. 

Felix,  339. 

Festus,  339. 

Feudalism,  169. 

Fitz-Stephen,  423. 

Flechier,  285. 

France  under  interdict,  44. 

Francis  of  Assisi,  50. 

Francis  I.,  his  character,  247. 

dies,  263. 
Francis  II.,  266. 

G. 

Galilee,  315. 

ravaged,  347. 
Galileo,  his  youth,  390. 

discoveries,  391. 

condemned,  393. 

dialogues,  393. 

sentenced,  394. 

death,  394. 
Galley-slaves,  290. 
Galilean  Church,  its  fall,  298. 
Garnet,  his  trial,  134. 
Gastaldo,  order  of,  220. 
Geneva,  228. 


Geneva,  its  generosity,  287. 
Geraldines  in  Ireland,  432. 
Germans  invade  France,  407. 
Germany,  in  1517,  83. 
Gerson  at  Constance,  180. 
Ghent,  284. 

Gilly,  Dr.,  visits  the  Vaudois,  241. 
Giovanni  de'  Medici  (Leo  X.),  62. 
"  Glorious  Return,  The,"  229,  230. 
Goa,  Inquisition  at,  103. 
Greek  Church,  the,  455. 

separates  from  the  Latin,  469. 

its  advance,  499,  500. 
Gregory  the  Great,  24. 

his  ritual,  27. 

spreads  monasticism,  171. 
Gregory  II.,  31. 
Gregory  Xazianzen,  156. 

his  sermons,  157. 

enemies,  157. 

made  bishop,  159. 

severity,  159. 
Gregory  IX.,  366. 
Gresham,  Sir  Thomas,  257. 
Guinevert,  233. 
Guises,  the,  266. 
Gunpowder  Plot,  129, 136. 

H. 

HEGESiPPrs,  356. 

Henry  II.  of  England,  410. 

his  character,  433. 

at  Dublin,  434. 

lavish  generosity,  436. 

his  death,  438. 
Henry  IIL  of  France,  129. 
Henry  IV.,  emperor,  38. 
Henry  IV.  of  France,  399. 

marries  Margaret,  270. 
Heresies,  strange,  1 50. 
Hildebrand,  83,  41,171. 
Holy  City,  the,  305. 
Holy  Houses,  377. 
Holy  OfRcc,  408. 
Holy  Synod,  Russian,  497. 
Holy  Trinity,  Monastery  of  the,  484. 


504 


INDEX. 


Honorius,  169. 

his  heresy,  169. 
Hosius  of  Cordova,  152. 
Huber,  291. 
Huguenots,  the,  247. 

first  appear,  248. 

their  honesty,  252. 

persecuted,  253. 

rise  in  revolt,  269. 

flight,  286. 

still  in  peril,  299. 
Huss,  John,  his  fame,  1*78. 

at  Constance,  180. 

imprisoned,  181. 

his  trial,  182. 

is  burned,  183. 
Hypatia,  her  death,  163. 


Image- vi'ORSHiP,  29,  191. 

Indulgences,  79. 

Ingeburga,  43. 

Innocent  III.,  41, 47,  51. 

Innocent  VIII.,  205. 

Inquisition,  Dominic  and  the,  839. 

Inquisition,  Roman,  388,  403. 

its  prisons,  404. 

in  1850,406. 
Inquisition,  Spanish,  370. 

its  rules,  etc.,  376. 

its  dungeons,  379. 
lona,  its  missionaries,  415. 

ravaged  by  the  Danes,  417. 

described,  454. 
Ireland,  Concpiest  of,  409. 

described,  411. 

its  people,  412. 

bards,  412. 
,      St.  Patrick,  413. 

schools,  414. 
Irish  Church,  its  origin,  418. 

hated  by  Rome,  418. 

destroyed,  420. 
Irish  revolt,  445. 

defy  the  Pope,  446. 

devoted  to  Rome  now,  450. 


Irish  indiscretion,  451. 
Isabella  Rosello,  106. 
Italy,  Reformers  of,  387. 
Ivan  the  Terrible,  481. 


James,  brother  of  the  Lord,  245,  304. 

James  II.,  451. 

Janavel,  Joshua,  228. 

Jerome  burned  at  Constance,  178, 183. 

Jerome,  St.,  21, 171. 

Jerusalem,  Church  of,  300. 

Jerusalem,  City  of,  302. 

its  madness,  337. 

sufferings,  848. 

destroyed,  353,  354. 

its  lasting  influence,  356. 
Jesuits,  Loyola  and  the,  99. 
Jesuits,  their  missions,  126. 

literature,  127. 

decay,  139. 

Pombal,  139. 

order  abolished,  141. 

revived,  142. 

persecute  the  Vaudois,  215. 

persecute  the  Huguenots,  290. 

excite  the  Irish  to  rebel,  448. 

intrigues  in  Russia,  487. 
Jews  despised  by  the  Romans,  303. 

their  zeal,  316. 

fate  of,  353. 
Jews  in  Spain,  368. 

persecuted,  370. 

banished,  371. 

flight,  373. 
Job,  Russian  patriarch,  484. 
John,  King  of  England,  45. 

opposes  the  Pope,  46. 

submits,  46. 

conduct  in  Ireland,  442. 
John,  St.,  his  humility,  314. 
John  XXIII.,  Pope,  deposed,  176. 
Josephus,  commander,  347. 

a  traitor,  347. 
Jovius,  historian,  71. 
Julius  II.  dies,  56. 


INDEX. 


505 


Julius  III.,  188. 
Justiuian,  168. 

builds  St.  Sophia,  462. 

his  ardor,  463. 

dedicates  St.  Sophia,  463. 


K. 


Kedron,  30*7. 
Kremlin,  the,  483. 


Laborie,  210. 
Lainez,  109, 190. 
Languedoc,  362. 
Lefevre,  Peter,  119. 
Leger,  historian,  198. 
Leo  and  Luther,  56. 
Leo  the  Great,  167. 
Leo  X.,  61. 

his  reign,  69. 

luxury,  73. 

extravagance,  77. 

purgatory,  78. 

Golden  Age,  90. 

death,  98. 
Le  Tellier,  282. 
Liberius,  Pope,  an  Arian,  154. 
Lorenzo  de'  Medici,  66. 
Lorenzo,  Leo's  nephew,  73. 
Lollard,  202. 
Lorraine,  Cardinal  of,  190. 

his  cruelty,  266. 
Louis  XIV.  a  persecutor,  283. 
Louis  Philippe  persecutes,  298. 
Louvre,  the,  248. 
Loyola,  Ignatius,  99. 

his  reading,  102. 

a  beggar,  103. 

at  Paris,  107. 

his  ignorance,  108. 

his  faith,  117. 

death,  143. 
Lucerna,  vale  of,  198. 

set  free,  239. 
Luther  a  peasant's  son,  63. 


Luther  awakened,  85. 

in  danger,  85. 

at  Leipsic,  89. 

his  hvrun,  93. 

at  Worms,  99. 

quick  sale  of  his  works,  257. 
Lyons,  "  Good  men  "  of,  48. 

M. 

Macmorrocgh,  Dermot,  409. 

in  Ireland,  421. 

treachery,  422. 

cruelty,  423. 
Magicians,  396. 
Maintenon,  Madame  de,  282. 
Manreza,  Cave  of,  103. 
Marguerite  of  France,  249. 
Mariana  defends  regicide,  127. 
Marina  marries  Demeti-ius.  489. 
Marolles  a  galley-slave,  291. 
Marot,  Clement,  248. 
Marseilles,  362. 
Martyrdom,  age  of,  13. 
Mary,  Bloody,  189. 

her  cruelt)',  195. 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  193. 
Mary,  Virgin,  her  home,  324. 
Massillon,  283. 
Matilda,  Countess,  37. 
Meaux,  250,  265. 
Mecca,  467. 

Medici,  Cardinal  de',  61. 
Medici,  the,  62. 
Melanchthon,  88. 
Melitius,  159. 
Michael  Angelo,  72. 
Milton,  194,  223. 
Modena,  389. 

Moderator  of  the  Vaudois,  245. 
Mohammed  a  reformer,  467. 
Monastic  system,  170. 
Monophysites,  the,  168. 
Monothelites,  the,  169. 
Moors,  the,  driven  from  Spain,  376. 
Moriali,  Mount,  o07. 
Moscow,  474. 


506 


INDEX. 


Moscow,  its  patriarch,  476. 

burned,  490. 
Mount  Athos,  475. 

liberality  of  the  monks,  487. 


N. 

Napoleon  I.,  241. 

Nazanzcn,  Gregory.  See  Gregory  Nazian- 

zen. 
Nectarius,  147. 
Nero,  12. 
Nestorians,  166. 
Nicfca,  Council  at,  144. 
Nicene  Creed,  167. 
Nikon,  491. 

his  character,  492. 

reforms,  494. 

severity,  495. 

death,  496. 

influence,  496. 
Niraes,  massacre  at,  297. 
Normans  sack  Rome,  40. 

in  Ireland,  423. 
Novatians,  165. 
Novgorod,  474. 
Nurembei'g,  84. 


0. 

Obedience   (in   Jesuitism),    its   results, 

105. 
O'Briens,  the,  445. 
O'Connor,  Roderic,  430. 

his  conduct,  441. 

death,  441. 
Olga,  Princess,  478. 
Olives,  Mount  of,  807. 
Orange,  William  I.  of,  190. 
O'Toole,  Laurence,  427. 


P. 

Paganism  at  Rome,  20. 
Pale,  the  English,  436. 
Palissy,  the  potter,  249,  261,  254. 
Paphuutius,  147. 


Parsons,  128. 
Pascal,  his  power,  137. 
Paschal,  208. 
Passover,  the  last,  349. 
Patriarchates,  fall  of,  473. 
Patriarchs,  the  five,  472. 
Paul  III.,  110. 

undecided.  111. 
Paul  IV.,  269. 
Paul,  St.,  education,  827. 

at  Antioch,  330. 

at  Ephesus,  332. 

at  Athens,  337. 

in  the  temple,  837. 

voyage  to  Rome,  339. 

at  Rome,  341. 
Pella,  Church  at,  355. 
Pepin,  31. 

Perouse,  Vale  of,  198. 
Peter,  St.,  in  prison,  822. 

character,  818. 

was  he  at  Rome  ?  348. 
Pilate,  letter  of,  319. 
Pius  IV.,  190. 

Pius  IX.  revives  the  Inquisition,  405. 
Philip  Augustus,  43. 
Philip  II.,  398. 
Philip  IV.,  885. 
Photius,  his  learning,  471. 
Politian,  66. 
Popes,  power  of,  10. 

corrupt,  17. 

election  of,  57,  60. 

three  rival,  175. 

persecutors,  203. 
Port  Royal,  136. 
Pra  del  Tor,  Castle  of,  213,  240. 
Pre'  aux  Clercs,  262. 
Printers  and  Popes,  251. 
Printing  forbidden,  255. 
Prudentius,  13. 


R. 

Rabelais,  255. 
Raboteau,  the  Misses,  287. 
Raffaello,  71. 


INDEX. 


507 


Reformation,  184,  207,  357.    See  LutJwr. 

in  Spain,  381. 
Reformers,  humane,  116. 
Richelieu,  282. 
Rodoret,  234. 
Roman  cities,  301. 
Roman  empire,  22,  301. 
Romanoff,  house  of,  491. 
Romans  besiege  Jerusalem,  390. 
Rome,  pagan,  10. 

corruptions  of,  11. 

conquered,  162. 

Bible  at,  185. 

captured,  408. 
Rousseau,  292. 
Rurik,  474. 
Russia,  its  origin,  474. 


Saint  Louis,  367. 

Saintes,  town  of,  251. 

Salbertrans,  Battle  of,  231. 

Salmeron,  190. 

San  Martino,  vale  of,  198,  204. 

Santa  Maria,  Church  of,  388. 

Saracens,  169,466. 

Savonarola,  67,  379. 

Savoy,  Duke  of,  219. 

Saxony,  Elector  of,  81. 

Seven  Churches,  the,  457. 

Seville,  402. 

Sicarii  at  Jerusalem,  316. 

Sigismund,  Emperor,  176, 182. 

Sigismund  of  Poland,  cruelty  to  Russia, 

487. 
Silverius,  Pope,  23. 
Simon,  349. 
Simeon,  354. 

Solovetsky,  Monastery  of,  498. 
Sorbonne  condemns  printing,  258. 
Sorcerers,  396. 
Spain,  decay  of,  401. 
Spaniards,  368. 

"Spiritual  Exercises,"  the,  103. 
St.  Sophia,  Church  of,  464. 
Starovers,  or  Old  BeUevers,  476. 


Stephen,  first  martyr,  322. 
Stephens,  Robert,  printer,  258. 
Strongbow,  426. 
Sturm,  92. 


Tara,  Council  at,  424. 
Temporal  power,  32. 
Tetzel,  79. 

Theodore,  Czar,  485. 
Theodosius  II.,  164. 
Theodosius  the  Great,  158. 
Tiraboschi,  395. 

Titus,  his  true  character,  348,  353. 
Toledo,  Cardinal,  114. 
Torquemada,  370. 
Toulouse,  Inquisition  at,  364. 
Trent,  Council  of,  116. 

opens,  188. 

decrees,  191. 

labors,  192. 

close,  194. 
Trinity,  Count  of,  211. 
Turin  persecutes  the  Vaudois,  218. 

pities  and  honors  the  Vaudois,  240. 

celebration  at,  245. 


U. 

Ulster,  massacre  of,  449. 
Urban  II.,  173. 


Vasst,  268. 
Vaudois,  the,  198. 

purity  of,  205. 

exiles,  220. 

martyrs,  221. 

expulsion,  226. 

return,  227. 

set  free  (1848),  242. 

valleys  illuminated,  242. 
Venice,  109. 
Vespasian,  348. 
Victor  Amadeus  II.,  200. 


508 


INDEX. 


Victor  Amadcus  II.,  anecdote  of,  200. 
Victor  Amadeus  IV.,  239. 
Vigilius,  Pope,  23, 168. 
Vladimir,  479. 
Voltaire,  296. 

W. 

Warrior  caste,  185, 199. 

Waterford,  427. 

William  I.  of  Orange,  130. 


William  I.  of  Orange  at  home,  131. 

death,  131. 
Wittenberg,  82. 
Worms,  93. 

X. 

Xavier,  Francis,  124. 

his  success,  125. 

death,  125. 
Ximenes,  375. 


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